


Desperate Measures

by The Neon Gang (clgfanfic)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Old West, Vinjury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/The%20Neon%20Gang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vin ends up in a bad situation and the others race to save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperate Measures

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Let's Ride #4.

**Early June, Arizona Territory**

**Four Corners**

The morning dawned bright and sunny, a welcome change from the days and days of on-again, off-again rain they had been having.  Early summer in the desert was usually hot and dry, but this year had been an exception.  A drizzling rain had plagued them and, on the rare days that started out bright and sunny, tremendous afternoon thunderstorms broke out like they normally would in August, soaking the already water-logged ground and bringing some flooding to the Territory.

No one could remember seeing a summer like this one.  Flowers that would have died weeks earlier still bloomed and washes that normally only ran after severe thunderstorms in the nearby mountains now looked like permanent creeks.  The excess rain promoted grasses that turned the hillsides a fuzzy green, and rabbits and coyotes could be found in abundance.

And, everyone agreed, the unusual weather had held the summer heat at bay much longer than usual.  They all knew it couldn't last, but for the moment it was giving everyone something to talk about, and sparing them a few weeks of blistering misery.

The odd weather had also put off the bandits, bank robbers, rustlers and other unsavory types who might have otherwise preyed upon the local townsfolk.  And, as a result, the seven regulators who protected Four Corners found themselves with little or nothing to do – a situation none of them were very comfortable with.  So it was with the greatest of pleasure that they had accepted an invitation, delivered by Rain, to join her and the other families at the Seminole village for a celebration on the day of the next full moon.

Their resident tracker had been able to tell them exactly which day that would be, and the seven peacekeepers had made their preparations, expectations running high for a much-needed distraction.

On the morning of the chosen day, the Seven met in the livery and saddled their horses, easy banter flowing between them as they worked.  Then, they mounted their horses and headed out toward the Seminole village at a leisurely pace.

"Anyone know why we're the guests of honor?" JD asked the group as they rode along.

No one had an answer, but Vin suggested, "Probably jus' want t' thank us fer helpin' 'em out last year.  Some tribes mark the anniversary of 'n important event like that by holdin' a celebration.  It's a way fer 'em to thank their spirits fer lookin' out fer 'em."

JD puffed up a little.  It was also the anniversary of these men coming together to work as peacekeepers, he knew, and it was also almost a year since he had arrived in the west.  Then his shoulders sagged a little and he shot Vin a sideways glance.  "Uh, we ain't gonna have to give a speech or anything, are we?"

Vin glanced over at the younger man and grinned.  "Hell, JD, I don't know," he replied.  "Might have t' say a few words.  Why?"

JD blanched.

"What's the matter, JD?  Don't ya like talkin' in front of a bunch of folks, all of 'em watchin' ya, hangin' on your every word?" Buck teased the younger man.

JD looked from Vin to the ladies' man.  "I didn't say that," he snapped defensively.

Josiah and Nathan exchanged knowing, amused smiles.

Wilmington grinned.  "Hell, kid, all ya got t' do is just speak what's in your heart an' it'll be fine."

"I ain't goin' out there to court those people, Buck."

"I knew a priest once," Josiah said, his deep voice a melodic rumble from the back of the group, "got so nervous standing up in front of his congregation he'd start to shake like a leaf in a strong wind…  One time, he got to shaking so bad, he fell down, right there in front of the altar."

The preacher paused and JD twisted around in his saddle, asking anxiously, "What'd he do?"

"He started praying, but his throat was closed up so tight he sounded like a screeching harpy sent straight from the Pit itself.  The people thought he'd been possessed by the Devil himself."

JD's eyes rounded.  "What happened?"

Josiah blinked innocently.  "They burned him at the stake."

"What?" JD yelped.  Then he scowled and shook his head.  "Ah, preacher, you're pokin' fun at me – just like Buck."

"Just that last part," Josiah assured the young man.  "Father Andrew was a good friend of mine.  He eventually got used to saying the Mass in front of an audience, but it was never easy for him.  The important thing was that he tried."

JD looked a little more mollified.

"If you should ever desire some helpful suggestions," Ezra said solicitously, "I would be more than happy to share some of my wisdom with you."

"No, thanks," JD told the gambler.  "I don't want t' court these people, _or_ swindle them."

The others laughed.

"Very well," Ezra replied, ignoring the comment, "but I assure you, the methods I could describe are time-tested and sure to—"

"Hell, Ezra, what d' y' need 'methods' fer?" Vin asked him, interrupting the pitch the gambler was winding up.  "Y' got 'nough charm t' talk the whiskers off a wolverine."

"Why, thank you, Mr. Tanner.  I can't tell you how gratifying it is to see that someone has seen my natural, God-given talents for what they are."

The others snorted and shook their heads.

"Yeah," Vin replied, "'nother weapon up yer sleeve."

"Exactly, my good man, exactly," Ezra said with a smile and the others all chuckled.

The ride continued peacefully, full of high-spirited discussions, all seven of the men enjoying the warm sunshine, the rain-greened landscape, and the company.

When they finally arrived at the Seminole village, they were met by a welcoming keen from the women and enthusiastic war cries from the men and boys.

The chief stepped out to greet them and Rain appeared, along with Opa Locka, who flashed Buck flirtatious glances through her long, dark lashes.  The ladies' man was instantly all smiles, just like Nathan was when he saw Rain smiling shyly at him from over her friend's shoulder.

"I think she likes me," Buck whispered to the healer as he nodded to the young woman.  But Nathan's attention was on Rain, the young woman looking even more beautiful than she had the last time he'd seen her.

"Uh-huh," Jackson replied distractedly.

The seven peacekeepers dismounted and some of the children ran forward to take their horses to one of the corrals.

"Welcome, my friends, welcome," the chief greeted, smiling at them.  "We are most honored that you have come to join us today."

"We're honored y' asked us t' come," Vin replied for the others.

The old man nodded his thanks to the tracker.  The man called Vin Tanner had lived among the Indians, of that he was sure.  And he had obviously learned many of their ways.  He would make a good husband for one of his young maidens, if he could arrange it.  "Come, come, my friends, it is nearly time for us to eat."

One of the children ran up to Ezra as the regulators trailed after the chief, asking him, "Will you show us more tricks?  Please?"

The gambler smiled down at the little girl, saying, "I would be delighted to perform some of my amazing feats of magic for such a beautiful young woman as yourself, my dear."

The girl blushed and giggled, then hurried off to help her mother, who called to her from the doorway of one of the repaired houses.

"I see you've acquired some admirers here," Josiah observed with a grin.

Ezra flashed him a grin.  "Another of my many natural gifts," he replied smoothly.

"If y' ask me, it'd be better if it worked on ones a little older," Buck teased the gambler, his head turning as he passed Opa Locka.  He smiled, tipping his hat, and tripped, stumbling forward several steps.

The young women giggled at him.

"And I see your 'animal magnetism' is in full flower today, Mr. Wilmington," the gambler returned.  "I'll be sure to sit up-wind."

"An excellent idea, brother," Josiah agreed.

"Better watch yo'rself," Nathan cautioned the ladies' man.  "I hear that one's lookin' hard fo' a husband."

Buck's head whipped around and his eyes flew wide.  "A husband?"

Nathan nodded.

Wilmington paled slightly.  "You're a good friend, Nathan.  A damned good friend."

The healer fought back a grin as he nodded.  "Just watch yo'self."

"I will," Buck promised him.  "Believe me, I will…  A husband?"  He shuddered dramatically, drawing laughs from Nathan, Josiah and Ezra.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

As they followed the silver-haired man, Chris glanced around the village.  The destruction that had been visited on the community had all but disappeared.  The houses, corrals, and lean-tos had all been rebuilt and most of the small pens holding chickens and pigs had been repaired as well.  The abundant rain had helped their small gardens, which had grown tall and lush with healthy-looking vegetables.  And wild flowers grew in clumps, adding color to the community.

"It looks like you haven't had to show anyone your… hospitality," the gunslinger observed with a faint grin.

"Or our hostility," the old man agreed with a smile.  "The Spirits of this new land have been kind to us this year."

The chief led the seven men to a small clearing, ringed by tall cottonwood trees that cast dappled shade over the entire area.  Colorful woven blankets had been spread out on the ground, and bowls and baskets full of food waited in the center.

"Please, my friends, come and eat with us.  Today we celebrate our victory over the Confederate ghosts," the chief said.  "Our first victory in this new land."

Chris could see the pain hidden in the old man's eyes and knew this was also a celebration for his son, Emala.  The gunslinger clearly remembered the young man, and how he had died, fighting side-by-side with white men he could count among his friends.

The seven men spread out and sat down on the blankets, accepting the food and drink that was passed to them by the men, women and children.  It was a bounty, freely shared, and each of the peacekeepers was honored by the friendship it represented.

Many of the young women took seats near Buck, the children near Ezra or Vin.  Chris's gaze swept over his men and he felt himself really relax, something he rarely allowed himself to do.  He was among friends here, family.  And knowing he wasn't alone any more lifted some of the burden he had carried since his wife's and son's deaths, dissipating his usual depression like morning fog in the sunlight.

His gaze settled on the tracker, who was seated across the blanket from him.  Vin immediately looked up, meeting his eyes, his expression silently asking the gunslinger if anything was wrong.  Chris's head barely moved, but it was enough to reassure the tracker that all was well.  Vin looked back down at the small boy who was talking to him.

For a brief moment Larabee wondered what it might have been like, seeing Vin with Adam, but the memory of the boy's smiling face was too painful and he pushed it away, determined to enjoy the day and not dwell on his past – something he did too much.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

From the corner of his eye, Tanner saw the flash of pain cross Larabee's face and knew the man was thinking about his lost child.  But the grief passed quickly and Vin sighed softly to himself, glad, but wishing he knew a way to ease the man's sadness.

He never suspected that he did just that with his steadfast friendship.

The tracker knew Larabee was still watching him, but he turned his attention back to the boy, hoping the celebration wouldn't be too painful a reminder of what Chris no longer had to celebrate himself.

The child smiled up at Vin, asking about his blue eyes, and where they had come from.  And Tanner had an answer, one his Kiowa family had taught him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**An hour or so later**

 

About halfway through the meal the first rumbles of thunder were heard on the far side of the foothills the village was built along.  Vin and several of the older men all looked up into the sky, studying the clouds and birds they found there.

"Better move this under that ledge," Vin said, nodding at a rocky shelf that jutted out from the hillside.

Two of the old men nodded their agreement and the women stood and began shifting the food and blankets over to the protected area.  Before the others had rejoined them, lightning flashed above them, and the rain began to fall, lightly at first, then with more determination.

Most of the villagers took cover under the ledge, a few hurrying off to their homes instead.  The peacekeepers remained with the majority of the people under the overhang, waiting out the storm.

"Again?" JD lamented, staring out at the falling rain.  "I hate this!  I've never seen so much rain!"

"Wet summer," Vin said matter-of-factly.  "Happens sometimes; makes it so the springs still run in the dry years."

JD thought about that for a moment and then nodded.  "Guess it's a good thing then."

Vin nodded.  "Y' get stuck out in the desert, y'll be right grateful a summer like this fed the spring that'll keep y' alive… if y' c'n find it."

More lightning crawled across the darkening sky, followed by loud cracks of thunder, some so loud a few of the children squeaked with fright.

"I felt the ground move!" JD yelped, looking down at the wet earth under his feet.

"Just the thunder," Buck told him with an amused grin.

"I'm tellin' ya, Buck, I felt the ground move!" JD argued with the man.

Chris glanced over at Vin, who nodded his agreement with the young sheriff.  He had felt it too.  Then the skies seemed to open up and the rain poured down so hard they couldn't see the houses built just beyond the cottonwoods, or even the trees themselves.

Several minutes later the pounding rain came to an abrupt stop.  And, a few minutes after that, the clouds began to break apart and drift away, carried on a swift wind high up in the sky.

The peacekeepers helped the villagers gather up what was left of their feast and carry it back to their homes.  The men and women then gathered in the center of the village, beginning to sing and dance.

The seven regulators stood and watched, Buck flashing smiles at all the young women who happen to glance his way.  "Like looking at ripe fruit on the vine," he sighed longingly.  "And it's just waitin' t' be plucked and savored."

"Just be sure y' don't pluck one that's already got herself married," Nathan warned him.

Buck's reply was interrupted by two small boys who came running into the center of the celebration, chattering excitedly in Seminole.  The old chief frowned as he listened to them, and the dancing came to an abrupt halt.

"What is it?" Chris asked the old man, worried by the chief's sudden concern.

"One of the children is trapped in the old gold mine," he replied.  "We must hurry."

Chris and the others followed the old, silver-haired chief and several other men as they took a narrow path that led up the side of the foothills.  The ground was wet and slick in spots, but they kept moving swiftly.

"I only wish I had known about this fortuitous shortcut before," Ezra muttered under his breath.

"So you didn't have to ride out on us?" JD asked him.

The gambler shot the young sheriff a pained look.

"Sorry, Ezra," JD immediately apologized.  "I know it was different then; you didn't really know us.  Besides," he added, "you came back to help."

"I was another man then," Standish said softly.  "Another man."

JD shot him a half-curious, half-concerned look, but said no more.  It didn't look like the gambler wanted to talk about it.

When they reached the mouth of the mine shaft, the chief called out loudly in his own language.  A small, frightened voice answered him in the same tongue, but it sounded weak and panicky to everyone's ears.

"He all right?" Nathan asked the chief, his brow pinched with worry.

"Tosi says he is trapped," the chief told the healer.  Then he spoke loudly into the mouth of the shaft again, but this time there was no reply.

Chris started into the mine, Vin on his heels.

"Gentlemen, you may wish to reconsider," Ezra said softly, stepping out to stop them.  His gaze darted to the old chief, not wanting to offend him, but needing to warn his friends.

"Someone has to go get that boy," Chris snapped, meeting the gambler's eyes.

"I agree, Mr. Larabee, completely, I assure you.  But, if you will notice," Ezra said, waving down at the foot-wide rivulet of water running from the mouth of the shaft.  "The ground water is rising as a result of the storms we've been having.  Parts of that old mine are probably under water right now.  If one of those walls should weaken and collapse, or give way partially, the water—"

"I'll go," Vin cut in.  "I c'n track the boy and git 'im out quick.  He can't be too far in if we c'n hear him from here."

"You're not going alone," Chris told the tracker, his tone making it clear there was no use arguing with him, he wasn't going to change his mind.

"Better if I do it alone," Vin replied.  "Ezra's right, it's goin' t' be unstable in there."

"Let's go," Chris broke in.  "We're wasting daylight."  Then he stopped and looked at the others, saying, "Wait here, just in case there's trouble."

"Watch your backs," Buck told them, looking worried and unsure if he should listen to Larabee and stay, or follow after the man.

Chris nodded, flashing his oldest friend a small smile.  "We'll be right back," he assured the ladies' man.

The tracker nodded to Wilmington as well, and then, together, he and Chris ducked into the mine shaft, making their way past a tangle of rubble just inside the opening.  "Buck," Chris called back outside.

"Yeah?" he asked, starting in to join them.

"No!" Chris snapped.  "Just get me a branch or something we can use to burn for light."

The ladies' man nodded and ducked back out.  A few moments later Buck stepped in just far enough to hand Larabee a thick tree branch that had been wrapped with cloth and was already burning.  He handed it to Chris, saying, "It's wet, but it should work long enough for you to find something better.  Be careful, both of you," he added as more rocks and dirt fell on them from the ceiling of the shaft.

"Get back out there," Chris told the man.  Then, taking the burning branch, he headed farther into the shaft, calling for the boy.  Several yards in, he found an old torch that had been left along the wall of the tunnel and picked it up, setting it alight.

With the additional illumination, Vin spotted another recent collapse of beams and rocky fragments from the ceiling of the shaft.  And at the edge of that pile he spotted Tosi, lying half-buried under the rubble.  "There!" he said, pointing.

He and Chris hurried over to the boy, Larabee leaning the torch against the wall of the passage, then checking to see if the child was alive while Vin started digging to free him.

Tosi moaned softly as Vin worked and Chris knelt and lifted the boy so his shoulders rested on his thighs, keeping him out of the water that was starting to pool on the ground around them.

The boy's eyes blinked open and he gasped, frightened at first.

"Easy, son," Chris said, his voice soft and soothing.  "We'll have you out of here in no time."

Tosi looked from Chris to Vin, recognition settling into his expression.  "Did Ezra come?" he asked them airily.

"Yep," Vin replied.  "He's waitin' fer y' outside.  Been showin' yer friends more of them fancy card tricks 'a his."  He looked up, meeting Chris's worried gaze.  "See if y' c'n pull 'im out now."

Larabee gently lifted and pulled, the child sliding free of the pile with a little effort.

Chris stood, cradling the boy in his arms, and immediately started back for the entrance of the cave.

Vin grabbed the torch and hurried past the gunslinger to light their path out.

"Chris?" they heard Buck calling.  "Chris?"

"We have him!" the gunslinger called back.  "We're on the way out!"

Three steps farther another tremor hit, more violent than the first.  A low, growling rumble gave them a warning a moment before the ground began to shake, but there was no time to do anything.

"Run!" Vin snapped at the gunslinger.

Chris started to comply, but the sharp crack of wood splitting filled the shaft like a gunshot the moment before ceiling fragments rained down on Larabee and the boy.  Chris lost his footing and knew he was going to fall.  He flung Tosi away, hoping to spare the child another pummeling.

The boy squealed with fright, but Vin caught him and set him down on his feet.  "Chris!" he called, turning to look at the gunslinger as more debris fell on him.  Tanner pressed the torch into Tosi's hand, saying, "Head fer the entrance – _now!_ "

The boy nodded, his eyes wide and full of fear.  But he didn't move.

"Go!  Hurry!" Vin told him, pointing.

Tosi jumped at the sharp tone in the tracker's voice and hurried away as fast as his feet could carry him.

The shaking stopped just as Vin reached Chris, who lay in the midst of the fallen debris, but Larabee was already struggling to his feet.  Tanner grabbed the man's arm and helped him up.  "Y' all right?" he demanded.

Chris nodded as he coughed.  "Let's get the hell out of here," he choked.

They turned and started after the boy, but another shot-like crack exploded in the shaft and, a moment later, wood, rock and dirt collapsed, filling the tunnel in front of them and cutting off their escape.

The two men dove for opposite sides of the passage, both hoping to avoid being hit by the materials falling from overhead, but rocks and pieces of rotted beams still struck them glancing blows.  Chris was knocked off his feet a second time, a blinding flash of light the last thing he remembered seeing before a wave of blackness overtook him and carried him away.

 _Vin!_ he called, but the word never reached his lips.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Chris!" Vin yelled when he saw Larabee go down for a second time.  He lunged away from the wall of the shaft, but falling debris caught him along his left side, from face to hip, driving him to the ground.  He hit the floor of the shaft and rolled over, starting to sit up at the same time so he could get to Larabee.  Then, another large portion of the ceiling broke free and fell, landing on his legs and abdomen.  Tanner cried out as something bit painfully into his leg, and then his breath was stripped away by the weight of the beam that fell across his hips and stomach.

He fought for a breath, but the weight pressing against him made it impossible for him to fill his lungs.  He struggled frantically, but the heavy piece of wood didn't budge.  Panic flared, but a glancing blow to his head carried him unwillingly into the darkness.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**At the same time**

The men gathered at the mouth of the cave staggered backward when the tremor hit and, a few moments later, a cloud of dust belched out of the open mouth of the shaft.

"Chris!" Buck cried, fear squeezing his heart with icy fingers.

Tosi darted out of the entrance, dropping the torch when he saw the men standing there.  Nathan immediately scooped the boy up and began to check him over for injuries.  "Where are Chris and Vin?" he asked the child.

"Inside," he said, and then began to cough.

As soon as the air cleared enough to allow them to see the entrance of the mine, the other peacekeepers rushed forward into the opening.

"Chris!" Buck bellowed.  "Chris, can y' hear me?  Vin!"

JD immediately began digging into the jumbled pile of rocks, dirt, and broken wooden beams, but as soon as he created a hole, more debris rushed to fill in the space.

"Stop," Ezra said, reaching out to grab hold of JD's shoulder, but the young sheriff shrugged him off, continuing to dig.  "Stop!" the gambler snapped, louder this time.

JD jerked up, surprised by the man's tone, and the command.  "We've gotta _do_ something, Ezra!" he snapped back at the man.  "They could be buried in there!"

"There is far too much debris here for us to move it," Ezra said, his gaze sweeping over the portion of the shaft he could see.  "We'll never be able to tunnel through all of this in time.  And we would require support beams as we progressed if we did."  He looked upward, his brow furrowing in thought.  "But perhaps we can reach them in time from above."

"There's got to be a whole lot more earth to move above us than in front of us," JD argued with him.

"The mine's built into the hillside," Josiah said, nodding as he caught on to what the gambler was suggesting.  "The shaft might be close to the surface at the top."

Ezra turned to the chief, saying, "Send someone back to the village.  Bring back more help.  You and the rest of your people stay here.  My friends and I will go up onto the hilltop and call for you.  With luck, you'll hear us.  If so, call back, or send someone to tell us you've heard us."

The silver-haired man nodded, then turned and gave his instructions.

Nathan joined them, still holding the boy.  "He's goin' t' be fine," he said.  "Chris and Vin?"

"They're still in there," Buck stated, frowning at the pile of rubble.

"Not for long, Mr. Wilmington," Ezra said, stalking back out, the other peacekeepers following him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **A few minutes later**

Water flowed into the tunnel, spreading out and creeping closer to the fallen gunslinger, reaching his hand first and then running down along the front and back of his arm.  When it reached his chin, Chris moaned softly as consciousness returned in a painful rush.  He coughed and spat, trying to clear the dust from his lungs and the water from his mouth.  Then, with an effort, he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees so he was out of the rapidly rising water.

His surroundings seemed to dip and warp with abandon as soon as he moved and he closed his eyes for a moment, willing the violent motion to stop.  When he opened them again, the world had stopped its bizarre contortions, but his head throbbed excruciatingly.  He started to stand, but had to stop when the motion forced him to retch.

As his stomach emptied itself, he realized he was staring down into several inches of water.  He frowned, wiped his dripping hand over his mouth, and then dared to glance up again.  Memory and realization hit him at once:  earthquake… cave-in… Vin.

"Vin?" he called as loudly as he could, but the name came out as a weak, gritty scratch.

There was no reply and he forced himself to his feet, looking around as best he could in the semi-darkness.  Dust still hung in the air and Chris staggered through the water a few steps.  "Vin?" he called again.  And then he saw the tracker, lying in the water, floating actually, a pile of debris burying his lower body.

"Tanner!" Chris called sharply, hurrying over to the man.  He knelt down, and lifted Tanner's shoulders out of the cold water.  The quick action caused his head to pound, creating sparks of lights that danced in front of his eyes, but he forced back the pain and asked, "Vin?"

Blue eyes opened slowly.  "Damn, Cowboy, what did y' hit me with?"

Chris snorted softly.  "Just a whole damned mine shaft," he replied, trying to see how bad it was.  "Can you move your legs?  Are you trapped?"

Vin looked down at his buried legs and tried to move.  He sucked in a sharp gasp and immediately froze.  "Can't move."

"Damn," Chris breathed.  "Can you sit up?  I'll see if I can't dig you out."

Vin nodded and, with Chris's help, he was able to sit up by holding on to the beam.  The water was just high enough to cover his lap.  He looked down and realized that the beam had shifted somehow, and was now on his hips and upper thighs, but his ribs ached with a fiery agony that told him they were cracked or broken.

He watched as Larabee began digging through the pile with his hands.  The gunslinger's eyes were pinched at the corners, as was his mouth.  "You hurt?" he asked Chris.

"Head hurts," he replied, adding, "It's nothing."  Vin didn't look like he believed it, but – thankfully – the tracker didn't say or ask anything more.

It only took a few minutes for Chris to move most of the rubble off the tracker.  One of the overhead support beams had fallen, pinning Tanner's legs.  And it was big enough that he knew he wasn't going to be able to lift it off the tracker without some help.

Looking over and meeting Vin's eyes, he said, "You should've gotten out when you could."

Tanner shrugged.  "Ain't the first time I overstayed m' welcome."

Larabee chuckled softly, wiping the sweat from his upper lip with his shirtsleeve.  "Want to try again?"

Vin nodded and leaned back, bracing his hands against the ground – the water now up to his elbows.  He waited and, when Chris tried to lift the beam, he struggled to drag himself out from under the weight.  He managed an inch, at most, before he was stopped by another flash of pain shooting up his left leg and making him shout, "Sonuvabitch!"

"Vin?" Chris questioned, then swallowed several times as he willed his stomach to settle.

"Must have somethin' pokin' m' leg," he said, his words strangled by the searing pain shooting up his thigh.

"Don't move," Chris said.  "Let me take a look."

Larabee dug some more, finally finding the real problem.  A sharp fragment of stone was embedded in the man's flesh just above the knee.  Blood oozed into the water from the wound in dark, twisting rivulets.  He would have to remove the stone if Vin was going to pull himself out from under the beam.  He looked up at the tracker.  "You've got a stone that's cut into your leg.  If I take that out, you think you can pull yourself free if I lift that beam a little?"

The tracker shook his head.  "Can't move more 'n a little, less y' c'n lift that more 'n the last time."

"Damn," Chris breathed, knowing he couldn't do any better than he had the first time.  Still, the stone had to come out so he could bind the bleeding wound.

He moved over and knelt beside Vin, untying Tanner's bandanna, then crawled through the water to the tracker's leg.  He put the cloth in his teeth and looked to Vin.  "Ready?" he asked through the material.

Tanner nodded.

Chris reached into the water, got a grip on the stone and pulled.  Vin cried out, his body jerking in response.

The flares of light erupted in front of Larabee's eyes again, but he pulled the cloth from his teeth, sucked in several deep breaths, and tied the bandanna around Tanner's leg, knotting it down as tightly as he could under the cold water.

The tracker gasped and groaned, but remained still.

"Sorry," Chris said, feeling his stomach starting to rebel again.  He leaned over and quietly heaved into the water.  Wiping his face with his sleeve, he straightened and looked around again.  "I'm going to go see if I can find something I can use as a lever for this damned beam."

Vin nodded, still panting as his leg burned and throbbed.  He glanced down to find the water a few inches deeper already.  "Better hurry, Cowboy," he said.  "This water's risin' damn fast."

Larabee nodded and made a search of the section of shaft they had access to, moving as quickly as he could, but he found nothing long enough, or sturdy enough, to use against the heavy weight of the beam.

He sloshed back to the tracker, noticing that Vin was beginning to shiver.  "Nothing," he said.

Tanner groaned, his eyes closing, his head tilting back.

"Vin?" Chris asked, immediately dropping down next to the man.

"Beam's settlin'… dirt's turnin' t' mud."

Chris blew out a breath, knowing he had to think of something, but he was at a loss and his head was hurting so badly it was hard to think at all.  Then it hit him.  He dropped down on his hands and knees and started frantically scooping dirt out from alongside Vin's legs, but a couple of inches down he hit hard caliche.  "Damn it," he hissed miserably.

Vin met Larabee's eyes and offered him a half-grin.  "Hell, least it means that beam ain't sinkin' no farther."

Larabee snorted.  "Yeah, at least there's that."

"Y' sure yer all right, Cowboy?"

The tracker's eyes were full of worry and Larabee knew he couldn't lie to the man.  "Head feels like I was kicked by a mule," he admitted.

"Here, let me take a look," Tanner said, turning slightly so he could examine the gunslinger.  The movement made his ribs hurt, but he needed to be sure Chris was all right.  A moment later he said, "Got a good-sized lump here."

"I'm not the one we need to worry about right now," Chris said, pushing to his feet.  "I'm going to look again for a lever."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **A short while later**

Chris moved through the rising water, still trying to find a way out, but there was none.  With a softly muttered curse, he turned and headed back to Vin.  The cold water was already up to the shivering tracker's chest, and Tanner's face had turned a pasty grey that had Larabee more than a little scared.

"How're you doing?" he asked Tanner when he reached him.

"B-been b-better," Vin replied, his teeth chattering noisily.

"Other end of the shaft's blocked just like this," Chris told him with a sigh.

"Prob'ly why we ain't already drowned," Vin said.

Chris's eyes rounded.  "That's probably true, but that water's getting in somehow.  If I can find out where—"

Larabee was interrupted by a shaft of sunlight shooting into the semi-darkness and striking the water with a startling radiance.  Both men immediately looked up, half-expecting to see the gates of Heaven, or maybe Hell, opening for them.  But in the roof of the tunnel they found a narrow crack that reached to the surface.

Chris sloshed over to stand directly beneath it.  He squinted, the bright shaft of sunlight making his head throb.  The fissure looked wide enough for a man to climb through, if he could get up there.  The gunslinger knew the water would eventually carry him to the opening, but Vin was another matter.

"Y' f-find a w-way out?" the tracker asked him.

"Looks like," Larabee admitted, glancing over at Vin in time to see the relief flood the tracker's features.  The feelings behind that expression felt like a fist in the gunslinger's guts.  Vin was actually comforted, knowing Chris would survive this, even if he didn't.  "But it's not going to help if we can't get that beam off you."

"Least I know it'll be you collectin' that bounty on m' head."

Larabee's green eyes flashed.  "I'm not collecting anything, Tanner."

Vin met the man's eyes and held his gaze as he said, "Y' ain't goin' t' move this beam, Cowboy.  And there ain't no way t' stop this water from risin', neither."

"There has to be a way!" Chris argued savagely.  "I'm _not_ giving up… not yet."

Vin nodded.  "Ain't sayin' I am, but if it comes down t' it…  I'd rather die by a bullet."

Chris frowned, fear suddenly flaring in his chest and making it hard for him to breathe.  "What're you saying, Vin?"

"Don't want t' drown, Chris," the tracker replied.  "Seen it happen…  It comes down t' it, I want y' t' shoot me 'fore I c'n drown."

"Vin—" Chris started, fully intending to tell the man he couldn't – no, _wouldn't_ – do it, but the raw terror in the tracker's blue eyes stopped him.  Could he stand by and watch Tanner drown?  "It's _not_ going to come to that," he said, stalling for time.

"Don't see how it can't," was the practical reply.  "I want yer word, Larabee."

 _Damn it!_   Chris hesitated, still not sure he could actually do it, but he knew he had no choice but to promise Vin he would.  He took a deep breath, his stomach knotting as he forced his jaws to open so he could say, "You have my word."

"Thanks, Cowboy."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **Around the same time**

Ezra led the way to the hilltop and stood, glancing this way and that, trying to decide where the mine shaft should be located below them.  Once he had picked a likely spot, he stalked over and yelled loudly, "Hello!  Can you hear me?  Hello?"

"Ezra?" came a faint voice.  "Ezra, that you?"

"Mr. Larabee?" he called, the others immediately converging on him.

"Ezra, there's a crack!  Find it!  Hurry!"

The five peacekeepers began to search without delay, Ezra and Josiah on their feet, the other three on their hands and knees.

"Here!  Chris!" Buck exclaimed, locating the fissure.  He lay flat on the ground and yelled through it, "Chris, can you hear me?"

"I hear you fine," Larabee replied, staggering slightly – tipping his head back to stare up at the crack made his headache return with a vengeance.  He couldn't make out Buck's features, but he could see the dark outline of the man's head.

"Here!" Wilmington called over his shoulder.  He looked back down through the crack and hollered, "Chris?"

"Buck, I need a rope!  Tie it to a horse.  There's a beam on Vin's legs that's got to be lifted off.  The water's rising.  Hurry!"

The tone of Larabee's voice told the ladies' man just how scared Chris was, and that chilled Buck to the core.  He looked up at the others, saying, "JD!  Go back to the village.  Get the horses and all the rope you can find.  Go!  Now!"

The young man turned without a single question and left at a full run.

Then Wilmington told the others, "Vin's trapped under a beam."

"The water?" Ezra asked, able to guess the real danger from the stricken expression on the ladies' man's face.

Buck nodded, looking away from the gambler's worried expression.  He turned back to the crack, calling down, "JD's on his way!"

Nathan joined Buck at the edge of the opening.  "You hurt?" he yelled down.

"Vin's trapped," was Larabee's reply.  "He's got a cut in his leg."

"Chris, are _you_ hurt?" the healer persisted.

There was a moment of silence, then, "Got hit on the head," he called back up, refusing to look at Vin as he did.  "Hurts some."

Nathan met Buck's eyes and held them.  "He's holding back," the ladies' man said.  "I can tell by the sound of his voice."

The healer nodded.  It looked like they had two injured men in that shaft, and not much time to get them out from the sounds of it.  "They goin' to fit through this?" Nathan questioned, trying to gauge the width of the opening.

"I think so," Buck said, leaning into the crack.  "Looks wide enough."  From his position, Wilmington was able to see Chris as he stood below him, one hand raised to shade his eyes.  The familiar black hat was missing and there was a dark streak in the man's blond hair that Buck guessed was blood.  "Damn," he sighed softly.  Then, glancing around, he caught sight of Vin in the gloomy shaft.  The tracker looked like he was shaking, and Buck realized the man was shivering.  The rising water must be cold.  "Hurry, JD," he said softly.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

JD raced down off the hilltop as fast as he dared.  He stumbled to a stop at the bottom, panting for breath, and then hurried on to the mouth of the mine.  The chief and two other men stood there, waiting.

"We did not hear you calling," the old man said.

"We found them…  I have to get back… to the village…  I need the horses… and rope…  As much rope as you have," JD panted.

The chief nodded and turned to the other two men, speaking to them in his native tongue.

"They will take you the fastest way.  The others will be here shortly," the old man told JD.  He gazed up into the sky and began to sing, calling on the gods of this new land to help the friends of his people.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **A half-hour later**

Chris watched Tanner carefully.  The shivering had stopped and a calm serenity had settled over the tracker.  The water had risen so it was now up to his neck, just beginning to lap at his chin.  He watched Vin tilt his head back and close his eyes and for a moment it looked like the man was sleeping, or praying, but then Chris realized he was gauging how much longer he had before the water covered his face.

"They'll be ready soon," he said softly.

The blue eyes opened and Vin turned his head so he could look at Larabee.  "Reckon it might not be soon enough.  Water's risin' faster."

Moving slowly so he didn't raise any ripples on the surface of the water that might choke the tracker, Larabee moved over to stand beneath the crack and called up, "I need that rope, Buck!  Now!"

"They're comin'!" was the immediate reply.  "I can see JD now; just a little bit more!"

"Tell him to hurry, goddamn it!" Chris snapped.

"Easy, Cowboy," Vin called to him.  "They're doin' ever'thing they c'n.  Don't need y' snappin' at 'em like a hungry spring bear."

The gunslinger glanced over, meeting and holding the tracker's gaze.  Chris knew that the peace he saw reflected there was due, in large part, to Vin's confidence that, should it come to it, Larabee would pull the trigger.  The only problem was, he still wasn't sure if he could do it, and he didn't plan on finding out.  But Tanner was rapidly running out of time.  The tracker's head was now tilted back again, and this time the water was covering his ears.

"Here it comes!" Buck called down from above.  A moment later a coil of rope dropped into the rising water with a splash.  Vin coughed and spat water from his mouth when the waves it created broke over his face.

Chris scooped the rope up and walked back to the beam.  "Hold your nose and close your mouth," he instructed the tracker.

"Git movin'," was Vin's only reply.

Then, ignoring his still-throbbing head, Chris sucked in a deep breath and ducked under the water.

As Larabee disappeared, Vin sucked in a deep breath of his own, used one hand to pinch his nostrils closed, and pressed his lips and eyes closed.  Water lapped over his face as Chris sank under the surface.

The blond opened his eyes underwater, but the liquid was too silty for him to see anything clearly, and he closed them again.  Using his hands to guide him, he found the beam and then Tanner.  He tied the rope around the wood, close to the tracker's legs, his numb fingers slow and clumsy.  He silently cursed himself and ordered his fingers to complete their task faster, but it was still taking too long.  He surfaced, gasping in a breath.  "Buck!  Pull!" he hollered.

The rope was almost immediately drawn taut.  It began to squeak as the beam was slowly shifted.

Chris heard Tanner's muffled cry of pain and looked back at the tracker.  Vin was struggling to free himself, the water lapping over his face as he did.  An expulsion of air was followed by a frantic gasp between the waves that moved over him.

"Pull!" Chris yelled, slogging over and trying to help lift the weight off Vin.

A moment later there was a sharp _crack_ and the beam settled again on the tracker.  The rope had snapped.

"Buck!"

"Here!" was the reply, followed a moment later by another coil of rope and then a second.  "Use both!  We're goin' to try and pull from the other side!"

Chris cursed as he hurried over to grab the new ropes as quickly as he could, pulling them over to the beam.  He grabbed the ends and started to duck back under the water, but Vin stopped him, a hand clutching desperately at his arm.

"Y' promised," Tanner said, almost strangling as the water began to cover his mouth.

"Hold on, Vin," Chris begged, then he ducked under the water again.  He worked as fast as he could, his own pain now pushed to the back of his mind as he fought to save his friend's life.  He could feel the tracker fighting, trying to inch closer to the surface of the water so he could take another breath.

Larabee broke the surface, yelling, "Now!  Pull!  Hurry!"

The ropes went taut again, and the gunslinger looked back only to find Vin's face now completely covered by the cold water.  The tracker's blue eyes were open, staring at him, pleading with him.

"Hang on!" Chris yelled at Tanner, grabbing the beam and pushing with every bit of strength he had left, but his eyes never left Vin's.  The trust was still there, but there was fear as well.

Then Tanner began to writhe under the surface, fighting with everything he had for his life.

Larabee felt the beam begin to shift, but it was moving so slowly.  Too slowly, he knew.

Vin's arms flailed against the surface of the water, his fists pounding it, and he howled wordlessly at the gunslinger, blue eyes rounding wide with terror.

Chris could still see those eyes, open under the surface, demanding that he keep his promise.  He nodded and released the beam, his efforts not actually helping in the slightest anyway.

And then there was a shift in his awareness, as if Chris were watching someone else reach for his gun, resting safe and dry on a pile of rubble, pointing it at the man he called his friend, cocking the hammer back, taking careful aim…

Vin's struggles ceased and he met Chris's gaze one last time.  Then he closed his eyes to spare Larabee, and waited.

"God forgive me," Chris whispered with a strangled sob as his finger began to squeeze.  "I'm sorry, Vin…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Fear like nothing he had ever known consumed Vin.  He knew he was going to drown if Chris didn't keep his word.  He fought, pounding the surface of the water, trying to make Larabee understand that it was time.  Now.  Then he caught the man's eyes and knew – Chris was hesitating, unable to keep his promise.

"Now, damn ya!" he screamed as loudly as he could, sacrificing what little air he had left and hoping that, somehow, Larabee would hear him.

He saw Chris step away from the beam, saw the gun in his had.  He looked through the water, meeting the anguished green eyes and holding the man's gaze for a moment, trying to thank him as best he could.  Then, he closed his eyes, not wanting his friend to see the life leave them.  He felt himself start to breathe in the cold liquid and prayed Chris's bullet would be in time.

And he felt the beam shift.

Vin pushed hard, breaking the surface and gasping for breath, then coughing as he choked on the water already in his mouth.  In the same frenzied moment he heard the shot and jerked, expecting to be hit.

He forced his eyes open just as he retched, but even as his stomach and lungs tried to reject the water filling them, he smiled thinly.  Larabee _had_ kept his promise.  A man couldn't ask for a better friend than that.  It was a rare gift indeed and he hoped he would have been strong enough to do the same for Chris if the situation had been reversed, but he wasn't sure.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Vin shot up from the water, his head breaking the surface, an immediate, desperate gasp for air filling the space.

Chris's hand jerked at the last possible moment, the bullet slamming into the wall of the tunnel.

"Chris!" Buck hollered, his voice full of panic.

"Stop!  He's free!"

Tanner continued to choke for breath between violent bouts of barking coughs, then the tracker leaned forward and retched into the water.

"Chris!" Buck called again.  "Is he all right?"

"He's alive!" Larabee called back up, not sure beyond that how the man was doing.

"Move away!" Buck yelled at them.  "I'm cuttin' the horses loose!"

Chris wrapped his arms around Tanner's shoulders and guided him back.  There was a pair of twanging sounds as the ropes were cut and the beam sank to the ground, landing with a dull, water-muffled _thud_.

A few moments later, two more ropes were dropped down through the fissure.

"Can you walk?" Chris asked the tracker, who sagged against him, shaking all over.

Vin nodded, still wheezing and hacking as he tried to clear his lungs.  Together, the two men struggled through the water to stand beneath the fracture in the earth.

Chris took one of the ropes and tied it around Vin, his hands shaking as he worked, although he didn't know why.  "He's ready!" he called up to Buck and the others.

A few moments later the rope was pulled taut, then began to creak as Vin was lifted slowly upward.  The tracker groaned loudly as he cleared the water.

"Vin?" Chris called to him.

"'M all right," the tracker gasped, agony shooting through his ribs as the rope tightened around him more, robbing him of his vision first, and then his consciousness.

"Vin!" Larabee bellowed when he saw the man's body go limp.  When there was no reply, he yelled to Buck, "Hurry!  He's passed out!"

When the tracker reached the opening, Buck leaned into the fissure – Nathan and Ezra holding tight to his legs to keep him from falling into the shaft – and helped maneuver Vin through the narrow space so he didn't hit the sides on the way up.

Next to the fissure, Josiah waited to pull Vin out when he reached the top of the crevice.

"Here he comes!" Buck called up.

The preacher bent over and took hold of the tracker, lifting him up out of the fissure and then laying him gently on the ground.

Once Buck was pulled back up, Nathan went to work, checking Tanner over carefully.

"Now you!" Buck called down to Chris.

Larabee tied the rope around himself, then called up to his friend, "All right!"  And a moment later he was on his way up, free of the cold water at last.

When he reached the fissure, he used his hands to keep himself in the center of the space so he didn't strike the sides.  He felt hands grabbing him and pulling him out.  He collapsed back onto the ground, moaning as the pain in his head flared again.  He felt more hands touching him and forced his eyes open.  Buck and Josiah were checking him, making sure he wasn't hurt.  He wanted to tell them to stop, to leave him alone, that he was all right, but he couldn't find the strength to do it.  He rolled his head to the side and watched as Nathan and Ezra worked over Vin.  JD was not far away, holding the horses and keeping the villagers back.

Chris sighed with frustration.  How was Vin?  Why weren't they telling him anything?  He tried to sit up, to find the answers to his questions, but a wave of agony crashed against the inside of his skull.  His green eyes rolled back and he slipped back into the darkness.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"Vin, where you hurt?" Nathan asked as soon as he was at the tracker's side, his hands going first to the bloody cut on the side of the man's head.  His left cheek was bruised, his eye swollen as well.

"M' leg," Tanner replied, his normally raspy voice now more raw and gravelly than usual.  "An' m' ribs."

The healer went to the tracker's leg next, cutting the bloody bandanna off Vin's leg and examining the gash he found underneath.  It was wide, but not too deep.

Nathan fished into his saddle bags and pulled out the carbolic, needle and thread, and fresh bandages, immediately going to work on the wound.

Vin sucked in a sharp breath, his body going instantly rigid when Nathan pulled the cut open and poured in the carbolic.  A moment later he relaxed again, his eyes sliding shut.

"A godsend," Ezra breathed softly, the expression of pure anguish on the tracker's face a moment before having nearly caused the gambler to retch.

Nathan nodded, glad for any pain his friends might be spared.

The healer had just finished stitching the wound closed a few minutes later when Rain appeared at his shoulder and handed him a jar half-full of a brown powder.

"Sprinkle it over the wound," she instructed him.  "It will help keep the infection away for a time."

Nathan did as she'd said, then wrapped the closed gash tight enough to protect it, but still loose enough to allow it to drain if infection set in.

That done, he pulled open Vin's hide coat, unbuttoned the tracker's shirt and pulled that open as well.  Two large, purpling bruises were spreading across the man's body, one along his left side, the other just above his right hip and lower abdomen.

Nathan carefully checked the tracker's ribs under the bruising, which jolted Vin back to consciousness with a hiss.  "Damn it, Nathan, y' tryin' t' finish me off?" he moaned, beginning to shiver despite the warm sunlight that shone down upon him.

The healer shook his head.  "Just found a couple 'a cracked ribs is all," he told the man.  Then he turned his attention to the bruise above the tracker's hip.  He pressed and prodded, but didn't find anything to tell him Vin might be bleeding inside.  A small, grateful sigh escaped his lips as he settled back on his heels.

"Done all I can here.  We need to get the two of ya back to town," the healer said.

"You are welcome to treat them in the village," the chief offered.

Nathan shook his head.  "Be better if I can get them back to town.  I've got more medicines there."

The old man nodded his understanding.  "Rain tells me you are a gifted healer, and I have seen it for myself.  We will help you in any way we can, you need only ask."

"Appreciate it, sir, but right now I just need to get these two on their horses so we can start back."  Nathan looked down at Vin, who was still shivering.  "I'm goin' to take a look at Chris, then we'll get you back t' town.  You just lay still 'til then."

Tanner nodded, glancing over at the gunslinger, who hadn't moved in a long while.  Vin's expression was guarded, but the healer could see the worry in the tracker's expressive blue eyes.

Nathan picked up his saddlebags, saying, "I'll tell you if there's anything wrong," and then moved over to Chris.  He found a lump the size of a silver dollar on the man's head, a small cut in the center, and he cleaned it, which woke the unconscious man.  Larabee sat up with a start.

"Easy, Chris," Jackson said, reaching out to grab the man's shoulders.

"Vin?" Larabee called, starting to turn and look for the man.

"Right here, Cowboy," Vin rasped, and the blond immediately relaxed, slumping against the hands supporting him.

"How is he?" Chris asked Nathan as the healer laid him back down on the ground.

"I cleaned and closed that gash in his leg.  He has a couple 'a cracked ribs – not too bad, though."  He hesitated for just a moment, but it was long enough for Larabee to guess there was more.

"What?" he demanded softy.

"Sounds like he got some water in his lungs…"

Chris shook his head slightly, unsure what the healer was trying to tell him.

"Goin' to have to watch him for lung fever," Nathan said softly.  "But right now, I want t' know how yo'r doin'."

"I'm fine," Larabee replied, starting to get up again, but as soon as he tried to move, the pain flared in his head and his stomach started to turn.  He froze, waiting to see if he was going to be sick.  Thankfully, he wasn't.

"Don't look fine to me," the healer commented dryly, shaking his head.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Less than a half hour later, both men were ready to travel.  Chris climbed painfully into his saddle, his movements slow and unusually awkward for the gunslinger.  He sat on the black gelding, his shoulders hunched and his head down and held as still as he could manage.

Nearby, Tanner's face contorted with pain as he was hoisted astride Josiah's horse, but he didn't cry out.  The preacher climbed up behind him, bracing the tracker against his chest.

Vin sat, panting from the pain but still looking annoyed and put out.  Peso was tied to the preacher's saddle horn and appeared no more happy about the situation than his owner did.

"'M tellin' y', I c'n ride jus' fine," he argued weakly, but the immediate chill that shook his body cast strong doubts on the validity of his comment.

"You just stay right there," Nathan half-growled at the tracker.  "Ya give Josiah any trouble, I'll force a dose of laudanum down yo'r throat and take ya back slung over the back of yo'r horse, y'hear?"

Tanner lapsed into annoyed silence, reduced to glowering at the healer.  He could feel Josiah's chest shake as the man chuckled softly.  "Ain't a damned bit funny," he rasped.

"Just sit back and enjoy the ride," Josiah told the tracker.

"I c'n ride m'self jus' fine," Vin insisted quietly.

"Maybe so, but we're not going to find out for sure this time, brother."

With Chris and Vin mounted, the peacekeepers headed back to town, Nathan, JD and Ezra riding ahead to get the clinic ready while Josiah and Buck stayed back to escort the two wounded men at a slower pace.

The two uninjured regulators exchanged amused glances as both Chris and Vin muttered softly to themselves about overly cautious healers.  But less than an hour later, those expressions had turned to ones of profound worry.  Vin was starting to build a fever, and Chris was swaying dangerously in his saddle.

Buck pulled up alongside his old friend and reached out to steady Chris with a hand on his shoulder, saying, "Easy there, pard."

"What?" Larabee asked, jerking upright, his hand reaching for his Colt.

"Easy, stud, easy," Wilmington replied.  "It looked like you were ready t' slide right out of your saddle, that's all."

"I'm fine," Larabee replied, his shoulders hunching again as his head dipped.

"That's what ya keep tellin' me," Buck replied, "but I'm not ready ta draw to it just yet…  I think you're bluffin'."

Chris shot the man a glare, then glanced over at Vin, asking softly so only Buck could hear, "How's he doing?"

"His fever's building," Wilmington answered honestly.  "And his leg's bleeding some, but not too much."

Larabee's gaze swept over the landscape, really seeing it for the first time since they had started out from the village.  They were getting close to Four Corners, and for that he was glad.  There Vin could get the treatment he needed, and he could curl up in his bed and sleep this damned headache away.

"Whoa, pard," Buck said, his hand on Chris's shoulder again.

Larabee jerked for a second time.

"Damn it, Chris, if you're goin' t' keep falling asleep on me, you're gonna have t' ride with me.  I let you fall out 'a that saddle, Nathan'll skin me for sure."

"Sleep?" Chris asked him, his expression completely confused.  "Buck, what the hell are you talkin' about?"

The big ladies' man shook his head.  "That bump on your head must've rattled ya pretty good, pard."

Chris scowled at the man, but said nothing.  Instead, he gigged his horse and pulled up alongside Josiah.  Vin was leaning back against the preacher's chest, his head lolled to one side, his eyes closed.  The tracker's face was flushed and Chris could see the blood soaking the bandage wrapped around his leg.

The gunslinger looked up, meeting Josiah's eyes as he asked, "How's his fever?"

"Still climbing," the preacher replied truthfully, but his voice low so he wouldn't wake the tracker.

"Damn," Chris replied, his lips pressing into a thin line of worry.  He noted how the big man kept one arm wrapped around Tanner, cradling him gently against his chest.  Vin was in good hands.

Buck pulled up next to Larabee, refusing to ride next to Tanner's cantankerous horse, which walked on the other side of Josiah's mount.

The men rode in silence for several minutes, and then the ladies' man asked softly, "Chris, I heard a shot down in that shaft… what was that all about?"

Larabee paled slightly as he remembered just how close he'd come to shooting his friend.  "Just trying to keep a promise I didn't want to keep," he said, his expression telling Wilmington that he wouldn't get anything more from him on the subject.

But the ladies' man had a pretty good idea what Chris was talking about, and knowing he'd been right about the reason behind the shot sent a shiver racing down his spine.

Wilmington met Josiah's eyes and the preacher said softly, "Blessed be the Lord, who hath given rest unto his people Israel, according to all that he promised: there hath not failed one word of all his good promise…"

Chris kept his gaze fixed stubbornly on the trail and silently wished his friends weren't so damned quick on the uptake.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **A short time later**

Vin remained asleep or unconscious until Josiah pulled his gelding up at the clinic, then the tracker jerked back to awareness with a strangled gasp.

"Easy, brother," came Josiah's low, rumbling voice.

Tanner stilled, realizing he was safe, even if he wasn't sure where he was, or what was happening.  He felt Josiah slide off the horse, and the next thing he knew, he was being carried up a flight of stairs.  He frowned and forced his eyes open.

More stairs…  They were going to the clinic.  He mumbled a weak protest, but the preacher ignored him.

Vin was vaguely aware that Buck and Chris were ahead of them, Larabee a little unsteady on his feet.  The tracker tried to remember why that would be the case, but he couldn't.  And then they reached the door.

"Put me down," Vin grumbled.  "I c'n walk."

"Not on that leg," Josiah told him, tapping the door with the toe of his boot.

Ezra pulled it open and immediately stepped out of the preacher's way.

Josiah stepped inside and Vin caught the flash of a reassuring smile from the gambler as he shut the door behind them.

"Get his clothes off an' put him in the bed," Nathan called from where he stood, already checking Chris's head wound again.  Buck stood next to Larabee, peering over the healer's shoulder.

"Why don't you help Josiah?" Jackson suggested to the ladies' man.

Josiah carried Vin over and gently sat him down on the bed.  With Buck's help, he carefully removed the tracker's coat and then his shirt, but when the preacher went to take off Tanner's boots, Vin waved him off and took them off himself, then his pants as well when Nathan told him if he didn't do it himself, Josiah and Buck would do it for him.

Naked, Vin lay back in the bed and Josiah covered the wound and then pulled the blankets up to make sure Tanner stayed warm until Nathan could get to him.

Buck looked over at the preacher, saying, "I'll go see how things are doing and help JD with the horses.  We'll be back."

"Get yourselves something to eat," Josiah told the man as he turned to leave.

Chris watched the whole thing, growing more and more worried.  It wasn't like Vin to go along with Nathan's orders like that.  He met Josiah's worried gaze and felt his heart begin to beat faster.  Vin must be feeling awfully bad to be that reasonable.

"All right, Chris, I'm done," Nathan told the gunslinger.  "I want to take another look at this tomorrow, make sure this don't get infected.  You need to get some rest now, but I want ya to stay here so I can keep an eye on ya; head wound ain't nothin' to be taken lightly."

Chris frowned, wishing he could put up an argument, but he didn't want to leave.  He wanted to be close by, in case Vin needed him.  He nodded.

"Ya can sleep in my bed," the healer said, nodding toward the small space hidden behind an Indian blanket that was draped over a length of rope.

Larabee stood and shuffled to the blanket, pulling it back.  He glanced over his shoulder once to see that Nathan had started to work on Vin, then ducked behind the blanket, crawled into the narrow bed, and immediately fell asleep.

Ezra, who had remained in the corner, out of the way, shook his head, saying with honest admiration, "Mr. Jackson, you are a dangerous man."

Nathan, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, already looking at the wound in Vin's leg, glanced over his shoulder, grinning at the gambler.  "Just you remember that," he replied.

"Took 'im long 'nough t' figger that out, didn't it?" Vin said airily.

Josiah and Nathan chuckled, Ezra joining in.

The healer turned his attention back to the tracker, frowning down at the gash, which had turned red and puffy since he'd seen it last.  At least the infection would explain Vin's building fever.  And he decided it would be easier to deal with an infected leg than lung fever.

Glancing up at Josiah, he said, "Heat some water fo' me?"

The big man nodded and moved off to do as he'd been asked.

While he waited, Jackson poured a small dose of laudanum into a cup and added water.  He handed the mixture to Vin, who hesitated, but then took it and drank it down without comment, although his expression said all he needed to about what the concoction tasted like.

When the water was warm, Nathan carefully cleaned the wound, then used the carbolic on it again before he applied an ointment and wrapped it up again.

Vin endured the entire process in stoic silence.  But as soon as Nathan covered him up, his eyes dropped closed and he slipped back to the welcome escape of sleep.

"How does our intrepid tracker fare?" Ezra asked the healer after Nathan had pulled the blanket up and tucked it under Vin's shoulders.

"Ain't sure.  That infection in his leg's gettin' worse, but his fever seems too high fo' that."

"You thinking lung fever?  Pneumonia?" Josiah asked him.

Nathan shrugged.  "Hope not, but all that water in his lungs… would be a good bet."

"Not one I would desire to win with," Ezra said quietly.

"Me either," Nathan agreed.

The door to the clinic opened and Buck and JD came in.  "How are they?" the ladies' man asked.

Jackson filled the two men in, adding, "Might be a long night, depending on how Vin's fever goes.  It's building, but it ain't too bad just yet."

"That's why we're here," JD said.  "We want to help."

"Where's Chris?" Buck asked, glancing around and frowning.

Nathan nodded to his private quarters, saying, "Gettin' some sleep."

Buck's eyes rounded.

"Brother Nathan does work the occasional miracle," Josiah offered by way of an explanation.

Buck grinned.  "Hell, Josiah, I knew that."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **Late the following evening**

Vin's fever built slowly over the next twenty-four hours, and with it, a wet cough developed that rattled his ribcage and sent searing fingers of pain clawing through his chest.  Chills assailed him, making him shake.  His head pounded, and every time he tried to eat anything, he immediately threw it back up.  The wound in his leg throbbed mercilessly, making sleep difficult.

All in all, he was purely miserable, and it was only getting worse.

But at least Nathan had found a way to make clearing his lungs a little more bearable.  The healer and whoever was helping him at the time – the others taking turns in shifts – pressed pillows against the tracker's chest and back as soon as he started coughing up the greenish mucus that seemed to be coating the inside of his lungs, making it hard for him to breathe.  They held the pillows there until the cough became a painful, wheezing gasp for breath.  It didn't stop the fire from racing along his ribs each time his muscles contracted, but it did make it more bearable.

But each bout of coughing left Tanner a little weaker than the last.

The growing concern in his friends' eyes scared Vin, and he knew he couldn't give up.  No matter what, no matter how bad it got, he had to keep fighting… for them.  And especially for Larabee.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **The next morning**

After Vin's latest attack of wet, racking coughs that were closer to choking than anything, the tracker crumpled into Chris's arms, his sagging body a mass of sweat and quivering muscles.

Larabee gently eased Tanner back down onto the pile of pillows and blankets that had been stacked up to keep him sitting up in the bed.  The gunslinger exchanged a worried glance with Nathan, who sighed softly and shook his head.

The healer stepped away, going over to make some more tea, hoping the tracker might keep it down long enough that the medicines he stirred into it could do him some good.  Vin couldn't seem to keep any food down, but the liquids sometimes stayed put.

Vin lay slumped against the pile of pillows, his face pale and filmy with perspiration, his leg wound oozing infection.  Chris went to work, cleaning it as he had seen Nathan do earlier.  He grimaced at the sight of the inflamed flesh.

"That bad, huh?" Tanner commented airily, watching his friend.

"Nathan says it's getting better, but I can't see how he can tell," Chris told him, not wanting the tracker to worry, but refusing to lie to him.

"Wish m'… chest was," Vin panted.

Nathan returned and held out a cup to Larabee.  Vin, knowing what it was, and what he had to do, tried to sit up so he could drink, but he was too weak and started to sag back.

The blond quickly slid an arm around his friend and lifted him up, but he had to cradle Vin's head against his own chest to keep him there.

After a quick but careful shift so he could hold the cup for the weak man, Larabee set the rim of the cup to Vin's lips, urging him to drink.  The tracker took a little, but refused more, even when Chris persisted.

"Belly's already tryin' t' turn a flip," he told the gunslinger.

And, a few short moments later, he was vomiting the sips of medicinal tea into an empty basin.  "Damn it," he breathed when his stomach finally emptied and settled again.

"Y' just have to keep tryin'," Nathan told him as Chris helped Vin lay back against the pillows.  "The more you can keep down, the better."

"It ain't gettin' no better, Nate," Vin complained.

"It will," Nathan promised him.

Vin nodded and gave up to the exhaustion that dragged at him like insistent hands, trying to pull him into a still, dark pool.  He closed his eyes, letting the blackness sweep him away.

Once the tracker was sleeping again, the healer walked over to prepare another powder he had gotten from Ming, the Chinese apothecary who also ran the laundry in Four Corners.  He shook his head, muttering to himself as he worked.

Larabee walked over to stand across the table from Jackson and ask, "How's he doing?  The truth, Nathan."

The healer looked up, meeting the gunslinger's worried green eyes and said, "His leg's healing, slowly, but I ain't too worried 'bout it.  It's the fever that's gettin' worse, his lungs, too.  If he could keep the medicine down, it might help him, but he can't…  He's gettin' weaker from the lack of food and water."  The healer sighed.  "That's worryin' me some.  A couple more days like this…"

"Isn't there something else we can try?"

"I sent Ezra t' fetch some of Inez's pudding.  I know Vin's got a sweet tooth.  Maybe he'll be able to keep that down.  I'm goin' t' mix some medicine in it and have him give it a try."

Chris nodded, then yawned, unable to stop himself.

"Why don't ya get some more sleep," Nathan said, more order than question.  "I'll wake ya if I need ya.  The more rest ya get, the sooner that headache is goin' to go away."

Chris hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded, knowing Jackson was right.  He might feel better, but his head still ached and sleep seemed like the only way to chase the pain away when it got close to unbearable, and it was close to that now.  Besides, he wouldn't be much help to Nathan, or Vin, if he couldn't concentrate on what the healer was telling him to do because he was too tired, or hurting too much.

The door opened and Ezra stepped inside the clinic carrying a bowl of Inez's pudding.  "It is as wonderful as always," he assured the two men.

Larabee looked back to Nathan, saying, "Wake me up if he needs me."

"I will," the healer promised, nodding.

Chris ducked behind the blanket and lay down on the bed without bothering to undress.  He closed his eyes, listening to Nathan's and Ezra's quiet voices for a few moments before he drifted off to sleep, worrying about Vin.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

He was back in the mine shaft, and Vin was still trapped beneath the support beam… and sitting under water, he realized with a panicked start.

He was trying to lift the bulky piece of wood off the tracker's legs, but it was too heavy, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't budge it.

He looked over at the tracker and saw Vin's blue eyes were open, his expression begging him to hurry, but Chris knew with an icy certainty that he wouldn't be able to help the tracker, not in time, anyway.

"Y' know what y' got t' do," Vin said levelly.

Chris held the tracker's gaze, the blue orbs demanding, then accusatory.  "I can't," he replied.

"Y' promised."

"I can't."

"Chris, please," Vin begged him.

The gunslinger finally reached down, drawing his gun and lifting it so it was pointed directly at the tracker.  Larabee's hand shook violently, the gun seemingly jumping in his hand like it was a living thing.  He could see Tanner's eyes, still pleading.  He could see the man's mouth open, and then the water, rushing into his lungs.

Vin began to fight, but still Larabee couldn't pull the trigger.  His hand shook so hard he thought he would drop the Colt, but he didn't.

"Y' promised!" Vin screamed at him, coughing up blood and what looked like pus.  Both flowed over his chin and floated into the water in stringy strands, staining it a mix of pale red and green.

Chris tried to close his eyes, but he couldn't.  His friend was dying.  And worse, he was suffering.  He knew he could end that suffering.  All he had to do was pull the trigger.  But he couldn't.

"Y' promised."

"God forgive me," Chris whispered, his finger finally beginning to tighten against the trigger.

A moment later the Colt's report thundered in the mine shaft, as loud as a cannon shot.  Vin's eyes opened even wider, his gaze locked on Larabee's as his body jerked violently.  Then the tracker smiled thinly and his eyes rolled back in his head.

Tanner drifted slowly up to the surface of the water, where he floated on his back, his arms flung out from his sides.

"Vin?" Chris said, confused.  How had Tanner gotten free?  What had he done?

Larabee moved through the thick water, which was turning a deeper shade of red now.

When he reached the tracker, Chris found the man's blue eyes open and staring up at him.  And there was a hole, in the center of Tanner's forehead, where blood bubbled out of the wound, running down the sides of the man's head and into the water.

"Vin?" he called again.  "Vin!"

But there was no answer.  Vin was dead.  He had killed his best friend.  He had killed the man who knew him better than he knew himself.  And for what?  Tanner wasn't really trapped after all.

Then Vin's head turned slightly and the blue eyes met his, the tracker's gaze boring into his.  "Why?" he asked Larabee.  "Why'd ya kill me, Cowboy?  I was almost free…"

"No!" Chris screamed.  "No!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

"No!" Chris screamed, bolting upright in the bed.  He gasped for breath, sweat pouring down his face.

The blanket was swept back and Nathan rushed in, asking, "Chris, ya all right?  What's wrong?"

Larabee nodded, waving the healer away and then wiping a shaking hand over his face.  "Bad dream," was all he said.

The healer nodded and held his tongue.  "Vin's fever's gettin' worse," he said softly.  "Ya need me?"

Chris shook his head and Jackson quickly backed out of the space, the blanket dropping back into place.

Sitting up in the bed, waiting for his heart to stop pounding, Chris could hear Vin out in the clinic, struggling to breathe, but each inhalation was wet and rattling.  And then the coughing started again and, when it was over, all he could hear was the tracker's weak gasps and soft moans.

"Easy," he heard Nathan say.  "I want y' to try and drink this."

"No," Vin panted in reply.  "Can't."

There was a pause, then the healer said, "All right, but I need you to help me here.  Me and Buck are going to set up a steam tent for ya.  I want you to sit under it and breathe the steam in as deep as you can.  Ya do that?"

Larabee knew Vin must have nodded his willingness to try, because he could hear the sounds of someone moving around.  He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood.

Pushing past the blanket, he found the tracker sitting on the edge of the bed, his head and shoulders hidden under a piece of tarp.  Steam curled out from under the bottom of the canvas, the wisps of grey mist carrying an odd aroma to the gunslinger.

Chris walked over to where the healer stood beside Vin, and asked, "What're you doing?"

"Got some oil from Ming.  He said if I could get Vin to breathe the vapors, it would help loosen the phlegm.  Figured it was worth a try since he can't seem to keep anything down.  I'm runnin' out of ideas."

Larabee nodded.  "Anything I can do?"

Buck walked over carrying a kettle.  "Water's ready," he told Nathan, then shot Larabee a reassuring glance.

The healer took the kettle and lifted the tarp a little, pouring more boiling water into the basin in the tracker's lap.  "Just stay under there and keep breathing," he told Tanner, then turned to Chris and said, "If this works, he's goin' to start coughin' soon.  If you can sit behind him and hold the pillow against his back, that'll make it a little easier fo' him when it starts."

Chris nodded and climbed onto the bed.  "Easy, pard, just me," he said, sliding in behind Vin and leaning back against the wall of the clinic.  He sat there, waiting.

A few minutes later, the first cough erupted under the tarp.

Buck and Nathan quickly removed the cover over Vin's head and took the basin away.  Chris pressed a pillow against Vin's back and the tracker grabbed another one, pulling it tight against his chest and holding it there as a second, third and fourth cough tore though him.  It felt like he was trying to rid himself of his lungs, one chunk at a time.

Nathan passed Tanner a cloth for him to spit into, then helped hold the pillow more tightly against the man's chest and ribs.

When the bout finally ended, Vin slumped back, ending up pressed against Chris's chest, too weak to move.  Awareness slipped though his thoughts, elusive and fleeting.  Was it the same day as the festival, or another?  He thought he had spent a day or two with this same fiery agony ripping though his chest, but maybe he had only been dreaming it.

Maybe he had actually drowned in that old mine shaft, and this was Hell.

No.  No, that couldn't be right.  There had been a ride in there somewhere.  There weren't horses in Hell, were there?

But he hadn't been able to climb down from the horse… not Peso… Josiah's horse.

Why had he been riding Josiah's horse?

No, wait, he wasn't riding Deuteronomy, not alone anyway.  He had been riding _with_ Josiah.

Then he remembered.  He couldn't dismount on his own; his muscles had been screaming with pain wherever they weren't numb or shaking.

Was that right?  He was shaking now.  Maybe that was it.

Why had he been riding with Josiah?  Had he been riding with Josiah?

He closed his eyes and tried hard to stop thinking.  His head hurt so much he couldn't see anything but a few blurry shapes that wavered in front of him, and thinking only seemed to make it worse.  He was hot and cold at the same time, and the incessant shivers that coursed through his body kept him from catching his breath.  And his chest hurt, badly, like someone was trying to cut his lungs out, a strip at a time, with a broken bottle.

Why?  Why did he hurt so much?  Was he still trapped?  Was he drowning?

He didn't want to drown.  He had seen a man drown once.  He had seen the raw terror in the man's eyes as it happened and knew then that he didn't want to die that way.  Hadn't Larabee promised him he'd shoot him before that happened?

But Chris had hesitated.  He remembered that, too.  Had Larabee waited too long?

He must be drowning.  That would explain the burning agony in his chest, wouldn't it?

If he was drowning, he had to try to… what?  He couldn't remember any more.

Vin struggled feebly, a weak mewing sound escaping his lips.

"Easy, Vin, easy," Chris soothed.  "I've got you.  Lay still."

Chris?  Was that Chris?  Where was he?  What was happening?

Fear forced the tracker's eyes open.  He blinked, trying to clear his vision, and the shapes finally came into focus.  The clinic.  He was in the clinic.  Nathan's clinic.

Nathan had been talking to him earlier, hadn't he?  He was sure he'd heard Nathan.  And then there had been that foul-tasting brew the healer had been forcing on him.  Hadn't he?

If he _was_ in the clinic, he wasn't drowning, but it still felt like his lungs were full of water.

Vin roused himself just enough to rasp out, "What's goin' on?" as he attempted to pull away from Chris.

"You're sick," Larabee's voice told him.  "It's just the fever.  Easy, just relax."

And then Vin realized the gunslinger was sitting behind him, holding him tight against his chest.  He was safe.  Chris had his back.  Chris would make sure he didn't drown.

He could hear Nathan and Buck speaking to him as well, soothing him with soft whispers of assurance, but he couldn't make out the exact words.  And he couldn't see them.  But he knew they were there.  And if they were there, the others must be nearby as well.  He was safe.  His friends were there.

Vin let go, giving himself over to his friends' care.

Chris felt Vin relax and then eased him over and down against the pile of pillows.

Nathan pressed the back of his hand against Tanner's sweaty, dirt-smeared brow, worry making his heart fret.  The tracker was so hot…

At the cool touch Vin turned his head, and Jackson found himself staring into the startling, familiar blue eyes.  "Easy, Vin," he said.  "I think ya got the lung fever.  I want ya to just lie still, y' hear?"

Tanner nodded.

"I'm goin' to get ya some water."

Fear coursed though Tanner.  He didn't want the water; didn't want anything in his stomach at all.  He would just throw it up, and that would hurt.  He had been throwing up a lot lately, and it had hurt every time and he was so tired of hurting.

How many times had he retched?

How long had he been like this?

He didn't know the answer to either question, and he couldn't think well enough to figure either out.  He rolled his head from side to side, moaning, "No."

"Easy," Larabee soothed.  "You have to take some water, Vin."

He had to.

Chris wouldn't lie to him.  If Chris said he had to drink it, Vin knew he had to drink it, but he still didn't want to.  It was going to hurt.

And then the cup was pressing against his lips and he was gulping the sweet, cool liquid.  It felt so good on his ravaged throat.  It tasted so good.  He wanted more, but they were taking it away from him too soon.  He moaned again.

"Not too much," Nathan told him.  "We have to see if y' can keep it down first.  If ya do, you can have some more."

Tanner closed his eyes, hoping it might ease the pain in his head, but it didn't.  His stomach clenched, but he didn't retch.  He almost laughed with relief.

The cup returned to his lips and he drank down some more of the wonderful water.  Then it was gone again, too soon.  He tried to draw a deeper breath and coughed once, then twice… and a third time.  And once he started, he couldn't seem to stop.

The pillows returned, and someone was pounding his back.  He wanted to tell them to stop, but he couldn't breathe.  Panic flared, and he tried to escape the torture being inflicted upon him, his arms flailing.  But his wrists were caught and held.

He couldn't break free, he was too weak, and he couldn't stop coughing.  It felt like he was dying.

He wished he _was_ dying.

And then he felt the convulsive coughs cease, and the pounding turned to rubbing on his back.  The touch felt good… so good.  He relaxed a little, and as soon as he did, he slipped into the blackness that swept up unexpectedly and carried him away without a fight.

"Nathan?" Chris questioned.

"It's all right," the healer said.  "He's just sleeping."  He looked up, meeting Larabee's eyes and smiling.  "And he kept the water down."

Chris offered Jackson a small smile of his own in return.  "What does that mean?"

"Mean's I got some medicine into him."

Larabee nodded, hoping it would be enough.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **The following morning**

Vin was sluggishly trying to swing his legs over the side of the bed when Chris walked into the clinic.  Nathan was sitting in a chair near the bed, his head down, sleeping.

"Hey, what're you doing?" the gunslinger demanded, crossing the room in a hurry and reaching for Tanner.

"Chris," Vin said, straining against him.  He lifted a shaky hand and pointed.  "Tosi's trapped in the mine… we have to find 'im…"

Chris put one knee on the bed, trying to keep Vin on it and not jostle him so much he set off a coughing fit.  "I know, Vin, I know.  But we got Tosi out.  He's fine," he told the man as soothingly as he could manage.

"We can't stay… water's risin' too fast," the tracker argued.  "I don't want t' drown…"

"You won't drown, Vin, I promise you," Chris told him.  "You can't drown.  You're free.  You're not trapped.  You hear me?  You can't drown.  We'll be fine.  Buck and Nathan and the others are here.  They're going to get us out.  You just need to lay back and rest.  This'll be over soon."

Tanner blinked away the salty sweat smarting his eyes.  He felt so damned weak, so confused.  His mind was so mixed up he could barely think at all.

"Don't want t' drown, Chris," he weakly protested again, his elbow slipping to the mattress.

Larabee's hands caught him and pushed him back against the pillows.  Looking over, the blond saw Nathan was awake and watching.  The healer nodded that he should keep talking, then rose and headed across the room to pour water into a cup before he added some medicine to it.

Chris looked back at Vin, who was muttering to himself.  He sat down on the edge of the bed and started talking to the tracker, telling him about the mine, the cave-in, and how they had gotten out.

Vin was dimly aware of the fact that Larabee was talking and that activity was taking place around him.  There were murmured voices and rustling noises, but his brain couldn't sort out the myriad sounds, or tell him what they meant.  His hearing, like his vision, was fuzzy.  But it felt so good not to be moving, and there was the water, sweet and cool.  He savored it, although there was a slightly bitter aftertaste he didn't much care for.

He wasn't in the mine shaft, he realized.  This was a bed.  A soft, clean bed; the sheets even smelled freshly laundered.  He wanted to sleep so badly, but he couldn't remember how to close his eyes.  Darkness crept toward him, stalking him.  And, finally, it pounced, closing over him and damping his pain and confusion.  There was quiet nothingness hovering just beyond his awareness and Vin reached eagerly for it, dropping into it with a grateful sigh.

"Vin?" Chris called, but Tanner was out again.  Looking up at Nathan he asked, "What's wrong with him?"

"The fever," was the only answer the healer could give.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **The next afternoon**

Vin's eyes sprang open at the touch on his ribs and a groan escaped his lips.  He shuddered as the pain peaked and a new agony took its place.  His hand came up, clawing at his chest.

"Easy," Larabee said and Vin clutched his friend's arm.

"I'm sorry if this is hurtin' ya, Vin," Nathan told him softly.  "Can ya hold still fo' me?  I'll get it done as quick as I can."

The healer slowly finished checking the tracker's ribs, then went to work cleaning the reddened, running wound on Tanner's leg.  Sitting next to him, Chris used one hand, curved around Vin's sweaty head, to keep it from tossing while he spoke softly to the man, trying to keep him quiet so Nathan could work.

The healer was afraid for the first time in a long time, unsure of himself and his doctoring skills.  He had seen a few others through the lung fever before.  But they hadn't had an infected wound, or cracked ribs, along with it, and he just wasn't sure he could save the tracker.

The door to the clinic opened and Nettie Wells stepped inside, closing it behind her.  She walked straight over to the bed where Vin lay and looked down at the young man, her knowing gaze taking in the leg wound and the bruises.  She glanced over at Nathan, saying, "Casey told me Vin has the lung fever."

The healer nodded.  "Yes, ma'am, I think so.  He caught it after he nearly drowned in an old mine shaft.  I haven't been able to do much t' help him.  I sent fo' some stronger medicine, but it won't be here for a couple more days."

"Well, I don't know if it'll help him or not – sometimes it does, sometimes it don't – but I brought a poultice fer him.  It saved m' husband's life some years back."

"Appreciate y' comin' into town with it," Nathan told her, the two walking over to the table to begin preparations, both discussing what else she would need.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Later that day**

"Damn it!" Vin sobbed as the latest coughing fit finally came to an end.  His grip was knuckle-white on the sheet and tears of pain escaped from the outer corners of his eyes as he shuddered hard.

"I'm sorry, Vin.  I'm so sorry," Larabee choked, wanting to cry right along with him.  He swiftly removed the soiled pieces of cloth in Tanner's lap, all of them filled with bloody green mucus, then helped the man lean back against the pillows, but even those slight, careful movements were pure agony for the tracker.  For a brief moment, Chris thought that maybe it would've been better if he hadn't pulled that shot in the mine, but he pushed that notion away.  At least Vin was still alive, still fighting.

Nathan handed the gunslinger a cup in which some medicine had been poured.

"Drink this for me," Larabee urged his friend.  "It'll help the pain."

Tanner nodded and took the cup, but his hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold it without spilling it.

Chris quickly took it back.  "Here, let me help," he said, holding the tracker's head up and pressing the cup firmly against his lips.

Vin took a sip and Chris forced the medicine into him, barely giving him time to swallow.  Then it was done and he settled Tanner back against the damp pillows once again.

Before Larabee could move, Nettie was standing beside him and he was helping her arrange a new, hot poultice on the tracker's chest.  The smell rising off the steaming mess made Larabee's eyes water and he choked back a cough of his own.

Once that was done, Vin slipped back into the oblivion he seemed to prefer recently.

Chris slowly straightened to face the worried eyes of the old woman standing beside her.  "That's all we can do for now," he quietly told her.

"The Lord will do the rest," Josiah added from the doorway.

Chris shot the preacher a look laced with unhappiness.  "Let's hope so," he replied before exiting the clinic.

The preacher looked up saying softly, "With the merciful thou will show thyself merciful, oh Lord, and Brother Vin is about as merciful as they come, so he could use some of yours right now."

"Amen, preacher," Nettie whispered.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **The next day**

Vin's fever was up.  Nettie laid the back of her hand across the tracker's brow and he quieted some under her tender touch.

Lord, but he was a sight, she thought.  There hadn't been time to wash him, so intent was Nathan and the others on attending to his injuries first.  And then the fever had kept them all too busy.  As a result, Tanner's face was dirt-streaked and sweaty.  Bruises made his left cheek and eye puffy, marring his otherwise youthful good looks – the result of the rocks striking him in the mine shaft.  His lower lip bore scabs where it had been split, or bitten, and his hair was a tousle of dirty curls.  Heavy stubble whiskered his cheeks and chin.  He looked so unlike the man she had met some months earlier it made her heart ache.

She shook her head.  Having sent Nathan off to get some much-needed rest, she shooed the rest of the peacekeepers out on the healer's heels as well.  All except Chris Larabee, who had steadfastly refused to leave, but even he had agreed to lie down and get some rest when she had insisted.

So, alone with the injured tracker, she checked her latest poultice, finding it still warm.  At least the recipe seemed to make breathing a little easier for the tracker.

She stood and walked over to the table, preparing another for when this one cooled completely.  By the time she'd finished, the gunslinger had wandered back into the clinic.

"If you're goin' t' be underfoot, best make yourself useful," she told him sternly.  "Warm me some water and bring me a basin.  I want to get this boy cleaned up before I put that next poultice on."

Larabee nodded and walked over to the potbelly stove to set some water on in the kettle.  "What's in that poultice anyway?" he asked her.

"Ground mustard seed, chopped onions and minced wild garlic," she told him matter-of-factly.

"If it works as good as it smells bad, he ought to be up and around in no time."

Nettie laughed softly.  "Smells worse 'n the Devil's own feet, I know, but it's done the job it's meant to do before.  It'll work again this time…  Seems t' work better on menfolk."

Vin shifted restlessly in the bed and Nettie walked over, sitting down on the edge and speaking to the fevered man in hushed tones, her soft, reassuring voice seeming to quiet him.  When Chris brought her the warm water in a basin, she went to work, wiping and scrubbing, but careful to stay clear of the leg wound and his cracked ribs lest it cause him any unnecessary discomfort.

The water in the basin slowly became discolored as she wiped the sweat, grime, and blood from his body.

Chris sat down in the chair that had been pulled up next to the tracker's bed and watched her as she worked.  Her hands were sure but gentle – a mother's hands.

Silently, Nettie moved the cloth below Vin's chin to remove the rings of dirt circling his neck and throat.  They disappeared easily and she moved to his collarbone and chest, unable to go any farther because of the spreading bruises and the poultice.

Vin shifted then, his lips moving as he mumbled something they couldn't understand.

Nettie wiped away the sweat that had reformed across his forehead.  "Hush," she said softly, her face close to his so he could hear her.  "You're all right now, son.  You're safe.  All y' have t' do now is rest."

Tanner's eyes opened, glazed and unfocused.  "Ma?" he asked timidly.

She pressed the cool, damp cloth to his brow, hoping it would soothe him back to sleep.  "Lie still, son."

"Ma?" he asked again in a clear but low voice.

"No, Vin," she whispered sadly.  "It's Nettie.  Nettie Wells.  But it's going t' be all right.  You can rest now, you're with friends."

"Ma…" he breathed.

She knew he couldn't really see or hear her.  Or at least he was unable to truly comprehend what she told him.  His fever was weaving a vision of his lost mother before his eyes, and she was supplying the dead woman's voice.

One of Vin's hands came up, reaching for her.  His fingertips touched her cheek.  She caught it and tried to tuck it back under the blanket, but he resisted.  Even in his weakened condition he still had some strength left, but she didn't want him to spend it on a dream, so she wrapped her hands around his and held him tightly.  "Shh, son.  You're goin' ta be just fine."

Vin rolled his head to the side, catching sight of the gunslinger.  His blue eyes rounded with surprise, and a little fear.  "Chris?" he breathed.  "Are y' dead, Cowboy?"

Larabee shook his head, saying, "No, I'm not dead, and neither are you.  You're just sick.  We want you to rest.  It's going to be all right."

Tanner shook with a chill, but he closed his eyes, his fingers tightening around Nettie's.  She squeezed back.

Feeling safe, he let himself slip back into the darkness.

Chris sighed with relief, then looked at the older woman and asked, "Do you want me to put some more water on for that poultice?"

Nettie nodded as she finished bathing Vin.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **Late that same night**

The tracker's fever peaked in the midst of a delirium.  Tanner cried out, speaking rapidly in a language none of them recognized.

"Kiowa, or Comanche," Chris said softly as he held Vin's head, trying to keep him still so he didn't do any damage to himself.  Nathan was afraid the tracker might end up breaking one of his cracked ribs, driving the bone into an already stressed lung.

All of the peacekeepers were there, doing whatever they could to help the injured man.  JD and Buck fetched up buckets of fresh water.  Josiah and Nathan dipped towels in the liquid, wrung them out and draped them over Vin's body, trying to bring his fever down.  Ezra held the tracker's feet, Chris his head, and Nettie kept his free hand occupied, holding it in her lap.  The other was secured by a towel that had been wrapped around his wrist and tied to the bedpost.

As the fever built to a peak, Vin began to mutter softly, a few coherent words or phrases escaping his lips, and all of them spoke to the suffering and loss the tracker had experienced over the course of his short life.

They each comforted the man as best they could, but nothing seemed to reach past the haze the fever created – nothing except Nettie's voice, and Larabee's touch.  So the older woman continued to speak softly to him, and Chris tried to soothe him, but Vin still slipped into the dark dreams that haunted him in the netherworld he found himself lost in.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Vin moved through a shadowy world of pain and fear.  He wasn't sure where he was, but he knew he didn't want to stay there any longer than he had to.

His chest burned with an unending ache that drained him, and he could hear himself coughing, gagging on the thick phlegm, but he could no longer feel the tearing shards of pure agony that the action usually provoked.  It was still hard for him to breathe, but not as hard as it had been before, although he wasn't sure when "before" was.

He could hear voices drifting out beyond the shadows, could feel hands touching his body, taking care of him, and he felt shame that he was too weak to tend to his needs himself, especially the more personal ones.  He should be able to take care of himself, but he had no control over his body at the moment, and no idea how to take control back from whatever had drawn him to this place.

Strong odors assailed his senses, making his nose and throat burn.  He wanted to gag, but was afraid it might only leave him retching again.  So he pulled back farther into the shadows and hunkered down, waiting.

But the waiting wore on him and, eventually, he ventured out again, determined to do something, even if he had no idea what.  He didn't like this place.  He wanted to go home.

 _Home_ , he thought.  _I have t' find a way home_.

He hadn't had a real home since he had been taken from his Kiowa family.  Not until he had met Larabee and the other regulators.  He wanted to return to Four Corners.  He wanted to be with his friends, his chosen family there.  But how?

He struggled, trying to find a way out of the nightmare he seemed to be trapped in, but nothing he did seemed to help.

Then he heard her.

"Easy, son, yer goin' t' be jus' fine…  Y' just have t' fight this fever off is all…  I know y' can beat this.  Yer strong, Vin, always have been.  Yer a Tanner.  Y' remember that.  And a Tanner never quits.  Never."

 _Ma?_ he called, looking around at the grey-black landscape for her.  Then he saw something… a light moving closer.  And, before he really understood, she was standing in the distance, looking just like he remembered her – young, strong, vibrant.  Long dark-blonde hair fell around her shoulders, and her blue eyes regarded him with motherly pride and affection.

"I love y', Vin," she said, although her lips never moved.  "I love y' so much."

_I love y' too, Mama._

"Y' have t' fight this, Vin.  Y' can't give up.  Not now, not ever.  Promise me."

 _I give y' m' word, Mama_.

"Yer friends are doin' all they c'n t' help ya.  Miss Nettie, too.  Y' just got t' keep fightin', Vin.  Fight hard."

 _I'll fight, Mama.  I give y' m' word…. I miss y', Mam.  I miss y' so much m' heart wants to burst some days_.

She smiled at him.  "I know, Vin.  I know.  I c'n hear ya."

 _I love y', Mama_.

"I love you, too," she told him, then slowly faded from sight.

And, suddenly, Vin was no longer in the shadow lands, but was back in the mine shaft, trapped under the beam, the cold water rushing into his lungs, drowning him.

"No!" he cried, fighting for all he was worth.  "No!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Vin came awake with an anguished cry.  He curled in on himself, coughing and gagging uncontrollably until he was retching as well.  He couldn't breathe, he couldn't stop coughing, or vomiting.  He hurt, everywhere.

And, in that moment, he just wanted it to end.  And, eventually, it did.

He was finally able to lie back while the others cleaned him and the bed up.

It was a little easier to breathe, he realized, but he left his eyes closed and continued panting.  A cool cloth wiped his face.

The touch shocked Tanner awake and a small moan escaped him before he had enough sense to suppress it.

"Where 're we?" he mumbled, his blurry gaze catching Larabee's eyes.

Chris gently wiped the tracker's brow again.  "We're in Four Corners, in the clinic.  You're safe," he responded.  "Tosi's safe too.  The others got us out of the shaft."

Vin flinched and tried to move away when Nathan began checking his leg.

"Easy, easy," the gunslinger told him.  "Let Nathan take a look at that.  You have a good-sized gash in your leg and it's infected."

Vin lifted his head as best he could to look down at the healer, watching for a moment as the man worked.  Then he let his head drop back against his pillows.

"You want some water, son?"

Vin rolled his head and met Nettie's concerned gaze.  He smiled weakly and nodded.

Chris met Nathan's eyes, asking silently if the tracker was over the worst.  The healer only offered a shrug, unsure if it was over, or if this was just a temporary respite.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **The next day**

Vin pulled himself awake, but his head was spinning, making him squint against the meager light that was sneaking into the room from behind the closed curtains.  He had been sick on and off for the last hour, losing whatever he had been able to eat or drink before that.  He was weak and shaky, and in pain.  The throb in his ribs flared painfully with any movement.  He thought sleep would allow him to heal, but he only seemed to be getting worse, even though he was able to breathe easier now.

Other than crawling out of bed to relieve himself, he had no strength whatsoever.

"Here," said a soft voice, interrupting his dazed thoughts.  A woman's voice.  Nettie.  "I've brought you a fresh pillow, son."

Vin struggled forward.  His ribs and stomach complaining mightily, but he gritted his teeth and pushed himself up.  A small hand slid in under his head to steady it.  He felt the cool, smooth pillow slide in behind him and settled back against it.  Its freshness was soothing, as were the older woman's ministrations.

"Thank ya, Nettie," he murmured.

His voice was so scratchy it could barely be heard and she felt a jolt of fear shake her.  He was rapidly weakening under the fever which would only break for an hour or two, then return with ferocity, sapping his strength.  Nettie and the others had thought he would be better by now, but the stubborn fever refused to let him go.

She patted his shoulder.  He was young enough to be her son, and she sometimes wished he was.  But he was so sick, so weak, she was deathly afraid she might lose him before she had the chance to tell him how she felt about him.  And she refused to do it now, certain he would think she knew he was dying if she did.  She turned away to leave, to let him rest, but his fingers closed over hers, drawing her back.

"Please," he said on a light breath, "stay fer a little while… please."  His hand was warm and sweaty and she squeezed it.

"Y' need t' rest, son," she replied.  "You're goin' t' beat this, I know y' are."

His eyes were dark and pleading.  "'M scared, Nettie."

"Well, don't y' be.  You're woolly t' the bone, Vin Tanner.  Ain't no fever goin' t' beat ya unless y' let it.  So, don't y' let it."

He smiled weakly at her, his eyes dropping closed again.  Was it that easy?  Did he just have to decide to win?

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **The next day**

Chris didn't turn around; he didn't need to.  The scene remained unchanged from the day before.  He ran a trembling hand over his hair.  "He hasn't kept anything down for two days, Nathan.  He's out of his head…"  It was the closest he had come to admitting his real fear, and the healer knew it.

Jackson nodded.  "I'm using Nettie's poultice, herbs from the Seminole village, a tea Josiah rode out to get from Ko-Je's people, and half a dozen things that Ming gave me.  It's all we can do, Chris.  It's up to Vin now.  Maybe when that medicine gets here…"

Buck placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and gave it a squeeze.  "He's tough, Chris.  He'll make it."

"I hope you're right," Larabee replied.

"Me, too," the ladies' man agreed.  He offered Chris a small smile.  "Hell, pard, I've gotten used ta havin' him around."

Larabee nodded.  "Me, too."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **Later that day**

Vin's shiver shook him awake.  Someone was sitting near him, a figure, a dark, unrecognizable shape.  He winced at the cool hand on his cheek.  His skin hurt, but it also felt like it was on fire.

"Chris…" he managed on a heavy tongue.  He tried to rise up, but his neck couldn't support his head or his arms his body weight.  His joints ached painfully, and it felt like someone had set fire to his head and chest.

"Easy, Vin," returned a soft voice.  "Don't try to move."

"Y' kept yer word, Cowboy," he said, his words slurring together.

Larabee shushed him, and his hands held him down.  "I almost killed you, if that's what you mean," he replied.  "No, lay still and rest, I'll go get Nathan."

Trembling, Chris turned away.  He feared the infection of the fever had gotten too far, that Tanner's time was up.  Had Vin sensed it, too?  His agitation made him think maybe Vin had.

Tanner hadn't eaten for several days, and the fever refused to break for good.  God, he sighed silently, did it have it end like this?  Too many people in his life had already died.  He didn't think he could bear losing another one.

"Chris," Tanner called.

The gunslinger turned back.  "Yeah?"

"I ain't gave up yet."

"Good," Larabee replied, wondering how long the man could last.

"Ain't sure I c'n beat this, Cowboy."

"You damned well better."

"If I don't…  I want y' t' collect that bounty."

"I'm going to get Nathan," Chris said quickly.  "You just lay still and rest."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **That night**

Chris held Vin as the tracker retched, tormented by the shudders coursing through the man's body.  Tanner had kept nothing down all day, and yet he was still sick.  The gunslinger held him carefully over his arm, mindful of the man's bruised ribs.  He was afraid to put his arms around the tracker, knowing every movement caused him pain, but Vin seemed to need his strength right now.

But how long could Vin endure this torture?  He was gasping for breaths, his face grey and lined, his body contorted with the spasms that shook him.

"Easy, now," Chris told him softly as Tanner finally quieted.  "Let's get you a little more comfortable.  Easy, I'm going to lay you down."  Slowly he pressed his friend into the pillows, his strong hand supporting Tanner's lolling head.

Vin whimpered as he was jostled, and the small sound pierced Larabee's heart.  Other than crying out when he'd first thrown up, he hadn't made any sounds at all.  How long could it take – hours, another day?  And why?  All they'd done was try to help save a child, and this was the thanks they got?

"Chris…"  Somehow, Tanner was still lucid, despite his pain and fever.  He reached out for his friend and Larabee caught his hand, giving the burning fingers a small squeeze.

"I'm here, pard.  I won't let go."

Chris had thought his presence would calm Vin, but the tracker was determined to fight.  At least he still had some fight left in him, the gunslinger thought.  But he should have been using it to defeat the fever, not ramble on over promises that Larabee didn't want to keep.

"Chris," he breathed hoarsely, struggling to get into a better position to see his friend, "listen t' me."

"No, damn it, you listen to me, Tanner," Chris declared, coming at him again with the cloth.  The fever was raging and it dried the wet rag almost as soon as Chris laid it across Vin's forehead.  The curly ends of his hair were dark and damp.  "Lie still and rest."

"If I don't…  If I don't make it—"

"Stop that!" Larabee declared quickly, wringing out the cloth again.  The action was useless, but he was too full of fear to sit still.  "You're going to get through this, Vin."

"If I don't," Tanner insisted, his eyes dark and turbulent with pain.  He clutched his friend's arm, the grip surprisingly tight.  "Promise me somethin'."

"What's that?" Chris asked, wishing he didn't sound so timid.

The tracker swallowed back a bite of pain.  "Promise me you'll get m' bounty… an' use some of that money t' try 'n' clear m' name?  Use the rest t' help Ko-Je's people… 'n' the folks out… at the Seminole village…  Maybe fix up yer place some, too."

"Aw, Vin…"  Larabee tried to pull away, but the tracker hung on to his arm.

"Give me yer word, Chris," Vin commanded in a voice that dried to a whisper.  "Don't let m' life go fer nothin'."

"Your life's _not_ a waste, Vin," Chris said.  "Don't you ever think it is either."  He reached over to loosen the fingers curled around his wrist.  "You've done a helluva lot of good here."

"Give me yer word, Cowboy."  The tracker tugged on Larabee's shirtfront and lifted himself up a little.

"Lay down, damn it," the gunslinger snapped back.

"Do it…"

"Vin…"

"Promise me…" Tanner insisted.

Chris dropped back in close, his forehead almost pressed to his friend's.  "You're going to get through this, you hear me?" he responded emphatically.  "You've fought this far, you just have to keep going a little while longer.  Just like back in that mine shaft.  You kept fighting, so did I, and we got you out of there.  Now you have to get yourself out of this one."  Chris wanted to believe everything he was saying.  He needed to believe it.  He couldn't let Tanner give up.

"Don't… argue with me… damn it," Vin got out with visible irritation.

"And don't you argue with me," Larabee returned.

"Damn it, Chris," Vin insisted.  "I'm likely dyin'—"

"You're _not_ dying!" Larabee shouted.  He caught Nathan's eye from where he paced in the room, his worry obvious by his stance.  The gunslinger immediately dropped his voice.  "You're going to be all right."

"Damn y', Larabee, say it!" Vin growled with unexpected energy.  He sat up and curled his hand into a fist.

Chris saw the clumsy blow coming and easily dodged it, but the swing pitched Vin forward, and he collapsed across the bed with a sob and a groan.  Larabee swore, his eyes blurry with tears.  The tracker hurt so much, and it was impossibly painful to see him like this.

Chris crowded onto the bed.  Gently, he got his arms around his friend again, lifted him up and moved him back against the pillows.  Tanner's back was taut and quaking, his face white, his eyes quickly losing focus.

"Chris, please," he pleaded weakly, swallowing his nausea as Larabee cradled his head and adjusted the pillows beneath him.  "I'm not up t' beggin' no more."

"All right, damn it, all right!" Chris snapped.  He sat back, the lump in his throat nearly closing his words.  "If it'll shut you up, I'll do it."

"Y' promise?"

Chris sighed shakily.  "I promise, just like I did in that damn mine," he answered, his voice cracking.  He laid a hand on the tracker's burning cheek and Vin flashed him a brief, weak smile.  "No more talking now," he whispered to the tracker, stroking the heated skin.  "You need to rest."  _Damn it, you got me on that one_ , he thought sadly.  _Please, God, don't make me see it through._

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **The following morning**

Buck's heart went out to the blond man in the clinic.  Larabee sat by Tanner's bed, his elbows on his knees, his face buried in his hands.  He looked like he had begun a deathwatch.  When Chris heaved a huge sigh the ladies' man could have sworn he sobbed.

In the bed, Vin looked like he was already gone.  He breathed raggedly.  His face was as white as the sheets, his lips were slightly blue, cracked and dry, and the leg wound was red and wet with something.  Silently, Nathan brushed past him and headed for his patient.

Chris jerked at the hand on his shoulder and raised his aching head.  He came to his feet when he saw Nathan standing over him.  "Ya need to rest, Chris.  I'll wake ya in a couple 'a hours."

Larabee looked from the healer to Tanner and shook his head.

"Y' heard 'im," Vin rasped softly.  "Go get… some sleep, Cowboy…  I ain't… goin' nowhere."

Chris hesitated a moment, then asked desperately, "Promise?"

"Give y'… m' word," the tracker said.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**A few hours later**

Chris jerked awake, looking up into Josiah's smoky grey-blue eyes.  "Vin?" he asked, his voice tight with fear.

The preacher nodded, but he was smiling.  "The medicine Nathan sent for arrived.  Brother Vin's awake and asking for you."

Larabee swung out of the healer's bed and brushed past the blanket.

Nathan nodded with satisfaction and pulled the cup away from Vin's cracked lips.  The tracker had struggled to swallow the tiny amount of medicine the healer had trickled down his throat, but the potent morphine compound had slid down with no further trouble after the first.  Already Tanner's breathing was quieter.

"He's dehydrated," Jackson told the others as they gathered around, looking haggard and worried.  "We've got to get some liquids into him, even if it's only a teaspoon or two every hour.  This medicine should quiet him 'til that damned fever finally breaks fo' good."

"He's had a fever for nine days," Ezra put in softly.  "When will it end?"

Nathan was acutely aware that the others were all scrutinizing his actions.  Having an audience didn't usually disturb him – there weren't many who would let a Negro doctor someone without keeping a sharp eye on him and what he was doing, but their collective concern made him work with slow and deliberate care.  They all so obviously cared for Vin, just like he did, and they were hanging on his every word and action, looking for something to give them a little hope.  And now, finally, Jackson felt like he could give them something.

Nathan turned his attention and gentle hands to the tracker's leg wound.  Although drugged, Tanner still involuntarily stiffened and shifted, his free hand clutching at the sheet that covered the rest of him.  His eyes fluttered open, glassy and unseeing.  The healer murmured some soothing words of comfort, and continued his examination.

As he dried the reddened wound with a clean towel, he said, "This infection's drawn out good.  It's all but gone now.  He just needs some food to break the fever, then these stitches can come out."  He pulled the sheet down and his hands slid along the tracker's ribs to examine the injured bones there.  The swelling was down.  The younger man would be stiff and sore for a few more days, but he _was_ healing.  And his lungs sounded much clearer, the regular application of Nettie's poultice keeping the congestion at a manageable level.

Now they just had to build up his strength in order to nurse him back to health.  Vin wasn't out of danger, but he was getting closer.  And he still had some strength left.  He just had to get some food and water into him to regain more of the strength he had lost.  The fever had taken a heavy toll on the tracker, but Jackson thought if it broke in the next day or two, Tanner had a good chance for a full recovery, and he told the others exactly that.  They erupted with hoots and hugs.

Chris didn't hear the instructions Nathan gave each of the others.  He felt emotion creeping back over him, a mixture of exhaustion and gratitude, and it left him with a bad case of the shakes.  He walked over and sat down next to Vin, his hand on the tracker's tightening.  This was the beginning of renewed hope for the gunslinger.  His faith in the stubborn tracker's strength and will had failed him, but its return felt like the loosening of a tremendous weight from around his neck.

"You can do this, Vin," he said softly.  "You can beat this, and we're going to be here for you every step of the way.  You hear me?  We aren't going to let you walk this alone."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **Later that day**

It was like waking from an endless dream.

As Vin labored to rise to full consciousness, his senses began to assault him.  Vainly he tried to put them into some kind of order and settle them back where they belonged, but they were slippery, uncooperative.

He struggled to move, but his body didn't respond any better than his thoughts had.

Next, he made an agonizing attempt to open his eyes.  This time, his lids finally cracked apart.  Streaks of white light poured through the narrow slits and he grunted in pain, but he forced them to stay open.

Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the brightness and his vision cleared.  He was in a room, but where?  There was a bed under him, a bed with fresh-smelling blankets covering him.  And then the pain began to interrupt his wandering thoughts, a dull ache spreading through his leg and chest as his head pounded in time to his heartbeat.

He heard rustling sounds and turned his head slowly, afraid of souring his stomach and touching off another bout of retching, something he did remember – too clearly, he decided.

A cool, wet cloth greeted his cheek and he stopped moving.  He looked and Nettie's face slowly appeared above him.

Her hand was soft, her touch feather-light on his skin.  Tanner found the concern and affection in the old woman's eyes too much to bear and glanced away, blushing.  His thoughts grew drunk on the knowledge that he had friends now, family – people who cared about him.

And then he remembered – the mine shaft, the ride back to town in Josiah's arms, the endless days in the clinic, each of them helping him, caring for him.  They had taken care of his every need, and done it willingly, with concern for his welfare.  They had kept him alive.

He flinched slightly when Nettie came too close to his injured ribs and she paused.  "Y' awake, son?"

"If I ain't, this dream's a damn sight better 'n the rest I've been havin'," he replied weakly.

Nettie smiled.  "We think the fever's finally broken for good," she told him quietly, smoothing back the dark, damp ringlets of hair that had crept over his temple.

Her stare made Vin uncomfortable and he fumbled with the sheet.  She did the same with the cloth in the basin, catching it not once but twice as it slipped from her wet fingers.

She gave him a reassuring smile.  "We've been worried about ya, y'know," she said.  "How do ya feel?"

"How long?" he asked in a rough whisper, his tongue sluggish against his coated teeth.

"You've been sick over a week," she told him.  "Nine days, in fact."

That long?  Vin shifted, then shivered with the chill that followed.  Nettie responded by pulling the covers up over him.

"Chris…" he began.

"He'll be back soon, don't you worry.  He'll be glad to see you're awake, too," she said and smiled.

He touched her arm, not quite believing she was real.  The old woman's gaze followed his action.

"I don't r'member… too much," Vin admitted, fatigue wearing him down again.  He closed his eyes briefly.  "My chest… hurts."  He let go of her and reached up to touch the source of his pain, and she pulled his hand back.

"Don't," she cautioned, "you have some cracked ribs."

He nodded, an itch on his leg drawing his attention away.  He reached for that instead.

"No," she cautioned a second time, "the stitches are still there.  Nathan might be able t' take those out tomorrow, if you're up to it."

Tanner slowly became aware of his unkempt appearance.  Days spent lying sick and delirious in bed would certainly have affected his looks.  Stitches in his leg?  Beyond a doubt he needed a bath and a shave.  In fact, he could probably use a week of soaking to get the sweat off his skin.  He didn't know why he should care at this point, but he did.  Self-conscious, he sank back against the mattress and plucked at the blankets, pulling them up to his chin.  He averted his eyes, and felt a flush spread across his cheeks.  How much had she seen of him?  And where the hell was Nathan?  He ought to be doing this, not her.

She chuckled.  "Hell, son, ain't nothin' I haven't seen before."

He groaned.

Nettie leaned over and took his face in her hands, rolling his head back so he was looking at her.  "I didn't think I was goin' ta get the chance ta tell ya this, Vin Tanner, so ya listen and ya listen well.  You're a damned fine man, and I'd've been proud to call ya my son, if I'd been blessed to bring ya into this world."

His face went red and tears welled in his eyes.  He nodded.  "Would've been proud t' call y' my ma, too, Nettie."

She smiled and sniffed.  "Well, then ya listen ta this old biddy and do like I tell ya.  I'm goin' to make ya some tea and heat up some broth, and you're goin' to take both."

"Ah hell, Nettie, I'll just end up with my head over the basin if I do."

"Maybe, but ya need to build your strength, and that's the only way ya can do it.  So you're goin' ta try, y'hear?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **A short while later**

That evening Larabee stood over his friend for moment, grateful to just be able to see the man free of the ravaging fever, then he leaned over and gently placed his hand on the tracker's forehead.

He was cool, the fever gone, just like Nettie and Nathan had said.  That was a relief, although Vin was still horribly pale and thin.  Damn, it had been a tough few days, but Vin was alive and on the mend.  The crisis was past.

The tracker stirred under the tender touch and opened his eyes.  "Hey," he greeted weakly, managing a grin for his friend.

"Hey, yourself," Chris said, returning the grin.  "You look like hell, Cowboy, but it's a sight that never looked better.  I'm damned glad to have you back with us."

"I don't remember…"  Vin frowned.

"You will.  Give it time.  Beside, some things that happen are best forgotten anyway."

"No, I mean, I don't remember ever leavin'."

Chris sat down on the end of the bed.  "You didn't leave, not exactly.  That fever just took you a little farther away from us than I wanted."

Vin nodded.  "The dreams… they's so damn real…"

Larabee nodded.  "Fever dreams."

"I saw m' ma."

"I'm not surprised."

Vin blinked owlishly and looked up, meeting Chris's eyes.  "She said she could hear me when I thought 'bout her."  He smiled weakly.  "'M glad t' know it.  I'll think 'bout her more."  He paused, then added, "Guess that means Sarah c'n hear you, too."

Larabee jerked slightly, but the idea was strangely comforting.  If she knew how much he'd loved her, how much he still loved her, that was just fine by him.  "Guess maybe she can," he said.

The two men fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, then both started talking at the same time.

They both stopped and Chris said, "Go ahead, do you need something?"

"Jus' wanted t' thank y' fer what y' did back in that shaft."

Larabee shook with the chill that snaked down his back.  "I didn't do anything…  I almost couldn't do anything."

"But y' did," Vin said.  "I saw ya.  You wouldn't 'a let me drown."

"You almost did."

"Y' waited long 'nough fer me to get free, not so long I drowned.  Seems t' me that's perfect timin'."

Chris snorted and shook his head.  Tanner logic.  "I'm just glad things worked out for the best… and I didn't have to collect that damned bounty.  I swear, Tanner, we're going to have to do something about that.  I don't want you holding that over me like you did this time."

The tracker smiled.  "What d'y' have in mind?"

"I say we ride to Tascosa and set the record straight.  There's got to be someone who'll listen, someone who knows what kind of man Eli Joe was."

Vin thought for a moment.  "Maybe, but fer right now, think I'll just stay right here and heal up, if y' don't mind.  Ain't ready to put m' neck in the noose again jus' yet."

Larabee nodded his understanding.  There would be time to clear the tracker's name.

Time… damn, that was a good word.

"Yer a helluva friend, Chris," Vin added softly.  "Jus' want y' t' know I appreciate it; means a helluva lot t' me."

"Likewise," Chris replied.  And they fell back into the same comfortable silence that they usually shared.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

 **Three weeks later, the Seminole village**

The Seven sat on blankets under the hillside ledge, just in case it rained.  Vin leaned back against the hillside, looking content as he watched the villagers and his friends.  He was still a little pale and gaunt, and he tired much easier than usual, but he was slowly rebuilding his strength.

The chief had asked them to return once Vin was able to travel and the tracker had seemed happy to make the trip, so Nathan had given the visit his blessing, which was all Chris wanted.

They had ridden out slowly, their usual banter more subdued until JD had said, "Hey, Ezra, I've been meaning to ask you, how do you know so much about mines?  Were you a miner?"

The gambler snorted and nearly choked.  "Me, a miner?  My good sheriff, a gentleman would never stoop so low as to engage in the tedious, back-breaking labor of mining."

"Well, how'd ya know then?" JD pressed, honestly curious.

Standish looked like he might ignore the question, but Vin said softly, "Buck told me how y' figured y' might reach us from the top of that hill.  Guess y' saved m' life.  Just wanted y' to know that means something t' me."

 _As your life means something precious to me, my friend_ , Ezra wanted to say, but he opted for, "A fortuitous happenstance, Mr. Tanner, nothing more, I assure you."

The tracker shrugged, but his blue eyes met the gambler's green and Ezra knew Tanner hadn't bought a word of it.

The gambler cleared his throat and said as lightly as he could, "I once had the dubious honor of winning a gold mine from a man…  Let us just say that he presented the property's value in such a way my expectations far exceeded the facts."

"Y' want to try that again – in the common man's tongue?" Tanner drawled.

"He told me the mine was bringing in twenty thousand a year, but it was a lie," the gambler stated simply.

Nathan chuckled.  "Ya mean he conned you?  _You?_ "

Ezra's chest puffed out and his expression was indignant.  "He did not _con_ me, Mr. Jackson.  He simply perpetrated an ingenious fraud."

"What happened to the mine?" JD asked him.

Ezra sighed and said, "After I had a look at my newly acquired property, I knew I had to… sell it, to someone who understood the subtleties of gold mining better than I."

"You mean you found someone who knew less than you did," Josiah translated.

"But while I was the registered owner, I learned more about mines than I ever would otherwise have chosen," Ezra concluded.

"Well, however y' learned it, 'm just glad y' did," Vin said.

"Me, too," Chris added, shooting the gambler a grateful smile that warmed Ezra's heart.

"My pleasure, gentlemen," he replied , tipping his hat to them.

And the banter had returned to its usual level for the rest of the trip.

In the village, the women immediately took Vin under their care, escorting him to one of the blankets and making him comfortable.  They fed him and handed him cups of water and fermented juices.  He took everything they gave him, taking a bite, a sip, enjoying the tastes, but being careful not to overload his stomach.

Seeing that Vin was in good hands, the others took seats and joined in the feast, this time uninterrupted by storms.

Tosi came over and sat next to Chris, looking up at the gunslinger, his big brown eyes full of awe and adulation.  Larabee blushed and tousled the boy's hair, asking how he was doing.

"I'm fine," Tosi stated confidently.  "But I am not allowed to play near the old mine any more," he added, sounding disappointed.

Buck looked across to the old chief and said, "I brought a couple 'a sticks of dynamite; thought we'd seal that shaft."

The silver-haired man nodded.  "That would be for the best, I think."

Tosi and his friends sighed heavily, knowing they would have to find a new place to play and find adventures.

Opa Locka slipped in next to Buck, saying, "I never told you how much I appreciate you saving my brother."

"Oh, well…" Buck started, and then he remembered what Nathan had told him about the young woman.  "…it was Chris here, and Vin, who saved him."

The young woman frowned slightly, but she looked from Larabee to Tanner, nodding her thanks to each man.  Her gaze settled on the tracker and she studied the man for a long moment.

Vin noticed the scrutiny and dipped his head, blushing slightly.

One of the older women noticed and scolded Opa Locka in her native tongue.  The chief watched the exchange and decided any of the men would make good husbands, but he doubted any of them were willing to give up their lives for the joys he could offer them.  Well, maybe next year.


End file.
